Elementary
by ImagineThis22
Summary: Ever since Joan signed on to work with Sherlock, she has been asking herself if it was a good idea or not. She has grown accustomed to his ways but she is still amazed about what he can do. Even though he acts like a child and can be a jerk, she oftens wonders, why does she stay? Is it that she is so interested in his job? Or...is it something else?
1. Chapter 1

Time: 3:00am Location: Sherlock's Home

Joan rolled over to her side and looked at the clock. It seemed as though the clock hadn't moved since the last time she looked.

It wasn't that she wasn't tired; which she was, it was because every time she drifted into dreamland, the same dream surfaced.

"Maybe if I shut my eyes and count down from 100, it will calm me down enough and I won't dream at all…" She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and started counting down from 100. "100, 99, 98, 97, 96…"

_It's 5pm and Joan is standing in the hospital lobby drinking coffee with her newest assistant Aimee. They are laughing and don't have a care in the world…It's a normal New York Saturday; same old, same old. Joan finishes her coffee, checks the time, and tells Aimee it's time. They take the elevator up to the 4__th __floor and see the awaiting family in the waiting room. She goes down the hall and into the Doctors Lounge. Her friends see her and they exchange jokes and stories as she gets dressed in her scrubs. Aimee appears at the door and points to her watch. Joan hurries and dashes out of the room and into the surgery prep room. Aimee informs her that the patient has been put on anesthesia about ten minutes ago and is fully under. Joan puts her cap on, washes her hands, puts gloves on, and washes her hands again. She looks through the glass in front of her separating her from the operating room. She breathes deeply and steps into the room while tying the surgical mask behind her head. Her patient is a middle-aged married man with four kids. The surgery is a routine liver transplant; something Joan had done plenty of times before. She educates the newbie's on the procedure and tells them to watch her closely and listen to everything she says. They nod. She starts to make incisions and after awhile, she is almost done. Surgeries like these take hours, but to Joan, they fly by. She is about to start closing him up when the monitor in which his heart rate was measured started beeping rapidly. Joan looks up at the assistants and they have shocked looks on their faces. Joan starts to bark orders at them and the heart rate increases. The operating room was in chaos and Joan started to panic. 'I'm losing him…I'm losing him!' she yells. _

Meanwhile, Sherlock was going over cold cases with Captain Gregson in the parlor downstairs. They were completely focused on their work until they were suddenly interrupted by noises upstairs. Sherlock looked over to Captain Gregson and shrugged.

They both returned to their work and forgot about the noises.

_'What's happening?' Aimee was shouting over all the chaos. Joan didn't respond, she was too busy with trying to stitch him up. She didn't know what was wrong but she needed to stitch him up before anything got misplaced in his body in all the chaos. An unfamiliar noise made her pause. She looked at the monitor…he had flat-lined. Pure panic settled in her. The whole room spun around her; she was frozen. Aimee tried to ask her a question but it was like Joan was in a different world. Before she knew it, Aimee was pushing her away and performing CPR on the man on the operating table while the others were getting the defibrillator ready. She was frozen against the wall watching her assistants doing HER job… 'CLEAR!' *Shock* Check the pulse. 'CLEAR!' *Shock* Check the pulse. Joan could see that there was no way the man would make it. After the 30 compressions and two breaths from Tia, the other assistant, the man was declared dead. After that one statement, all the chaos in the room stopped…Joan looked down at the middle-aged father and husband…The patient was dead…HER patient…_

Joan sat up screaming and crying. She looked around the room at her few belongings and her gaze traveled to the clock. 7am.

Captain Gregson burst into the room, gun raised and sweeping the room.

"Ms. Watson, are you okay?!" He asked still sweeping the room with his pistol.

"Uh-yeah-h I'm-ok-ay." She managed to choke out between sobs.

Gregson lowered his gun and fully came into the room. Sherlock walked in behind him.

"Why'd you scream?" Gregson asked while walking closer to the bed.

"Nightmares?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Something like that…" She had finally managed to pull herself together. She got up out of her bed and grabbed her robe that was hanging on the wall hook.

Gregson noticed her reaching for her robe and started exiting the room. "I'll let you have your privacy, sorry I burst in. I didn't know what was happening in here."

"No, it's alright. I just…well…" She started.

"Had a nightmare?" Sherlock asked again.

Joan slipped on the robe and tightened the robe around her. She looked to the ground and nodded.

"That must've been one scary dream…" Gregson suggested from the doorway.

"Traumatic, actually…" She whispered. She looked up at the two faces who were masked with genuine concern. She wiped her eyes to get rid of the last few tears. "So, you stayed here overnight?" She just had to change the subject; she wasn't ready to talk about what happened. They must've noticed because they immediately switched the subject and didn't ask questions as to why.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind. Since it's really slow at the office, Sherlock offered for me to spend the night and look-over old cases to see if there was any incriminating evidence that we may have missed." Gregson explained.

"I don't mind. Did you find anything?" She asked.

"Indeed we did. We found something odd in the old Mackson file." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

"The Mackson file? You mean the creepy old dude who stalks kids and kidnaps them leaving a bouquet of flowers behind?"

"Precisely. Now, get dressed, breakfast is downstairs." He started to leave the room.

"Well, I need to shower Sherlock…" She replied dumbly.

"Well shower _then_ get dressed. Breakfast will be cold by then though. Please hurry, we must share our new-found knowledge with the NYPD." He turned and pulling Gregson with him, swiftly exited the room.

"Can you please start making coffee for me?" She called after him.

"Already done!" He called back.

Joan headed out the door and into the bathroom down the hallway. She shut the door and locked it (like she always did) and started the water. She undressed and went to the mirror. She primped and admired her slim figure. She leaned in close and tilted her head up, down, left, and right. She smoothed out her hair and parted it.

"I've heard people say I'm pretty but I just don't see it." She mumbled to herself. She stepped away from the mirror and stepped into the shower. She tilted her head back into the water and let it wash over her face. The warm water and comforting smell of light lemon soap made her forget all about the dream that has haunted her ever since that day. After she had washed her long black hair and conditioned, she turned the water off and stepped out. She grabbed two towels out of the bathroom closet and dried off. She picked her robe off the ground and made a mad dash to her room. She picked out a black tank-top and a grey V-neck to go over it, pink undies, a black bra, a pair of black pants, socks, and her fuzzy Ugg boots. After she was dressed, she hurried to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and combed her hair.

"Should I blow-dry my hair?" She asked herself looking at her messy damp hair.

"No." Sherlock spoke from the doorway.

"Ah! Jesus, Sherlock! Don't you ever knock?" She composed herself and put her hair behind her ears.

"It's my house, why should I? You do take an awful long time to get ready." He leaned on the door frame.

"I'm almost done. I'll be down in ten minutes." She opens the drawer and pulls out a hair-dryer. She plugs it in and is about to start it when she sees Sherlock still watching her. "Privacy?" She asks half-annoyed.

"My house, remember? As long as we live together, there is no privacy." He smirked.

"Ten minutes? Please?" She half-asses a smile and says in a forced sweet-sounding voice.

"Fine. But you would've been done sooner if you hadn't admired yourself for 5 minutes before your shower." He smiles at her confused expression. "Oh come on Watson. I know it doesn't take _that_ long to shower." He winks and walks away leaving her in a state of confusion mixed with shock and surprise.

She abandons the hair-dryer and decides to put her hair up. She unplugs the hair-dryer and walks downstairs. Sherlock and Gregson are waiting by the door with three cups of hot coffee. Joan grabs her coat from the hallway closet and puts it on. She takes her hat out from her coat pocket and puts it on. Sherlock hands her her coffee and smiles.

"Ready?" He asks, still smiling.

"Ready."

**CLICK NEXT CHAPTER TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES**

**thanks for reading! Please continue, the story gets better!**


	2. Chapter 2

As Joan walked into the NYPD offices on the 5th floor, her mind wandered back to the dream. She was so distracted that she accidentally knocked over some files and they scattered everywhere on the floor. She snapped back into reality and dropped to the floor to pick them up.

"Crap…" she mumbled to herself.

"Don't worry, I got it." A deep voice sounded above her. He crouched down and started helping her clean up the mess of files.

"I made the mess; I should clean it up…" Joan looked up from the floor at the man helping her pick up the papers. He was muscular man with deep green eyes and blonde hair. Her gaze traveled down to his name-plate. "Morrison? Thomas Morrison?" she asked standing up. She placed the files back onto his desk.

"Yeah…How'd you know?" he looked into her eyes. Joan felt herself melt at the gaze of those beautiful green eyes.

"My old clients name was John Morrison and he talked about his brother the NYPD officer. I mean, how many Morrison's can there be in the NYPD?" she laughed nervously. She pushed her hair behind her ears and admired his flawless features. 'He _is_ good-looking…No! Stop it Joan…you're acting ridiculous…he's just a guy…a really hot guy…' She thought to herself.

"Actually, I know five Morrison's." He laughed and Joan blushed. "So you're the famous Joan Watson; John talked about you all the time. You helped him out a great deal by getting him sober. He hasn't used since you left."

Joan hardly listened; she was too busy admiring him.

"Watson!" Sherlock's familiar voice rang from behind her.

"Yes?" She asked in a daze, still facing Thomas.

"We could really use your expertise on this case." He replied anxiously.

"Could you hold on a minute?" She politely asked Thomas.

"Yeah, sure." He sat back down and continued with his work.

Joan turned with a slight smile on her lips. She started walking over to where Sherlock was standing. He was holding a worn file with papers sticking out everywhere.

"Is that the Mackson file?" She asked surprised.

"Yes. It's pretty full…" Sherlock answered clearly preoccupied with something else.

"I can see that…" she took the file and began to page through it. "So you said you needed my expertise?" she asked looking at one page in particular. It was an application for a position as a Doctor.

"Who was that you were talking to?" Sherlock asked as he pushed past her.

Joan closed the file and turned to where he was heading. "Umm…Why do you want to know?" She asked as he was approaching Thomas' desk. "Wait! What _are_ you doing?!" She pushed the file into Gregsons' hands and ran after Sherlock. She caught up and turned him around. "What on earth are you doing?!"

"I was just going to ask him a few questions." Sherlock started to turn around but Joan caught his arm.

"I know you Sherlock. What are you actually going to do?" She kept her hand on his arm to keep him from turning around.

"Watson, I was just going to ask a few questions about the case." He smirked.

"Bull. Tell me what you're really going to ask." She felt herself getting angry. He must've sensed it too because he smiled and brushed her hand off gently.

"I'm just going to ask about the case. I promise." He gave a genuine smile as he looked into her eyes.

"Alright…but if you ask anything that doesn't apply to the case, I have the right to slap you." She gave him a look to get the point across that she wasn't kidding.

Without saying anything else, he turned around and introduced himself to Thomas.

"Detective Morrison, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sherlock Holmes and I would like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind." Sherlock politely offered his hand.

Thomas took it and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you Mr. Holmes, I would love to answer some questions…though I don't know how it will help the case…" he smiled a warm smile that made Joan melt even more than before.

"Well first of all, have you ever heard of the Mackson case?" Sherlock asked. Gregson came up next to him and pulled out a notepad and a pen and got ready to jot notes down.

"Yeah, but I haven't worked on it. I just get the information from the news like everyone else. 12 victims, right?" Thomas sat casually on his desk.

"Actually 13, if you count Abby Nieder." Sherlock corrected him.

"Who is Abby Nieder?" Thomas asked curiously.

"The 13th victim as of last month. We thought that it was just another kidnapping because there were no flowers left behind. Abby's parent's forgot to mention though, that flowers were sent to their house the day _after _the kidnapping. This would lead us to believe that Mackson, being the old man that he was, either got close to being caught by the parents and had no time to leave his signature or just forgot the flowers altogether." Sherlock stated.

"I think you also should consider that it _could've_ been a copycat." Thomas suggested innocently.

"We did, mind you. We came to the conclusion that it is _not_ a copycat." Sherlock snapped.

"No need to get defensive Mr. Holmes…I was just suggesting that you should look at it from different angles." Thomas shrugged.

"And I told you we have. Abby Nieder wasn't kidnapped by a copycat."

"How do you know? Just asking…" Thomas asked curiously.

"The kidnapper is a _serial_ kidnapper. He takes one trophy from each of his victim's homes and that was never released in any report to the press. Nobody could've known that, therefore, this was not a copycat kidnapper." Sherlock stated. Joan could tell Sherlock was getting flustered.

"So, you're saying that something was taking from the Nieder's home?" Thomas creased his brow.

"Precisely." Sherlock had calmed down a little and his tone showed it.

"What was taken?" Thomas quickly glanced at Joan.

"That, sir, is classified." Sherlock smirked and turned to leave but stopped short. "Ah. One more question Mr. Morrison…"

"Yeah?" Thomas was getting annoyed as well.

"When are you planning on asking Ms. Watson out? I need to know so we can set a date."

The look on Thomas' face was priceless and Joan would've laughed if it hadn't been a blow to her as well.

"Wha-at…?" he stuttered.

"Well I need to know when so I can see if she is available. You never know, I could need her." Sherlock kept talking as Thomas stared.

"Sherlock…" Joan started but the consultant stopped her.

"Oh Watson, I knew that he wasn't going to be able to ask you on his own. I could also see it on _your_ face that you wanted him to ask you. I'm just giving you what you wanted." He laughed.

"You can't just push your way into my personal life like that Sherlock! I'm so sorry Thomas. He doesn't have boundaries…" she explained embarrassed.

"No…it's fine…" he cleared his throat.

"Sherlock…" Joan started but he was gone. She started to walk away from Thomas but he stopped her.

"Joan, wait." He looked deep into her eyes.

"Yes?" She asked nervously.

"Since it's already out there…could I possibly…" He struggled.

"Yeah?" She smiled.

"Could I possibly…get your number?" He asked quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Joan giggled. She pulled out her business card and placed it in his hand. Her hand stayed there for a moment and he smiled. "Call me anytime." She smiled, even more this time. She turned and started for the door. Once she was there, she looked back. He was still watching her. He smiled and she waved goodbye before heading down the hall to the elevator.

Joan found Sherlock leaning up against her car. She strode over to him and he smiled innocently.

"Good news? I must say Watson, if you were trying to hide the fact that you liked him, you weren't doing a great job." He smirked.

Joan stopped in front of him.

"So, when's the date? Where is he…" he was cut short by a hard slap across the cheek.

"You're terrible!" Joan growled in anger.

"What was that for?" He asked in fake innocence.

"You promised you wouldn't bring up anything that didn't apply to the case! I told you I would slap you if you did. You can't just butt into my personal life like that!" She scolded.

"Like what? Like the way you try to butt into mine?"

He had her there and he knew it.

"Now, get in. We have somewhere to be." He held his hand out for her keys and she handed them over. He unlocked the door and opened the passenger side for her. Once she was in the car, he made his way over to the driver's side and got in.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he started the car.

"We're going to pay a little visit to the kidnapper." He looked at her. "Put your seat belt on…oh and don't worry, this won't take _that_ long. We wouldn't want you to miss a call from your boyfriend." He rolled his eyes and pulled away from the curb.

**CLICK NEXT CHAPTER TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES.**


	3. Chapter 3

**BEFORE YOU READ: Make sure that you have read the previous chapters before starting this one. You will not understand unless you have previous knowledge of the beginning of the story. Thank you for reading!**

Sherlock turned left into a parking-lot, pulled into a parking space, and cut the engine. Joan looked out the window at the run-down apartment building.

"Westinger's Apartments? Mackson lives _here_?" Joan asked in disgust. Her eyes traveled across the dump of a building. The building was 10 stories tall with cracked windows on every level. "Who on _earth_ would want to live here?" She asked herself. Joan turned to face Sherlock but he wasn't in the driver's seat anymore.

"Joan, are you coming or not?" The ex-surgeon had failed to notice Sherlock opening her door. She hadn't even heard him leave the car.

"What?" She stepped out of the car and stood back so he could shut the door.

"Are you coming or are you going to sit in the car and complain about the building's condition?" He turned to face her. His face was set in a frown and his eyes were vacant of emotion.

"No, I mean, what did you call me?" She cocked her head slightly to the left in curiosity. He hadn't called her by her first name since they started working together.

"I _believe _I said Watson. Did I not?" He inserted the key into the door handle and the doors locked.

"No, you called me Joan…" She smiled, trying to lighten his mood.

"Well that's your name, is it not?" He turned and walked past her like she wasn't even there. She had to practically jog to keep up with his gait; taking two steps to his one.

"It's just…you haven't called me Joan once since we first met…" She almost smacked into him when he stopped abruptly. "It feels different…I'm used to being addressed as Watson or Ms. Watson…" She laughed as she walked to his side.

"Wouldn't want you feeling uncomfortable, now would we…_Watson_." He snapped. He continued to walk and when he got to the door to the building, he neglected to hold it open and Joan almost got smushed between the door and its frame.

"Well you're clearly in a _mood_." She scoffed. Sherlock kept walking and stepped into the awaiting elevator. Joan had to run to catch it before the doors shut.

"And what made you come to that conclusion?" He asked mockingly. He fidgeted with his watch and checked the time in order to avoid her gaze.

"Well for one, you won't even look at me and you're ignoring me." She crossed her arms and leaned back on the walls of the elevator. She raised her eyebrows awaiting a response or an apology (which she knew she wouldn't get but she can hope, can't she?).

Sherlock looked at her and forced a smile. "I am fine. Chipper, in fact." The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Sherlock stepped out without her and strode down the hallway.

"Well you sure don't show it." Joan mumbled. She took in her surroundings as the detective continued to walk to the end of the hallway. The carpet was stained and the wallpaper was bubbling off the walls. Mold was taking over the windows at the end of the hallway and she could've sworn she'd seen rat droppings. "And I thought our kitchen was gross…" She joked. She wasn't expecting Sherlock to stop and turn to face her with an expression of anger masking his face.

"Correction. _My_ kitchen. _My_ house. _My_ life." He snapped. Sherlock turned back to the door marked D-51 and knocked.

Joan felt like she had been hit in the gut. She gaped at Sherlock as he kept knocking at the door, waiting for an answer that would never come. She stared for a few more moments and felt herself boiling inside.

"I'll be at the house. _Your_ house." She turned around and started to leave before she totally lost it on Sherlock and made a scene. She had made it half way down the hall when she remembered that he had her car keys.

"Screw it. I'll just take a cab." She made it to the elevator and hit the down button. When the doors opened, she found herself hoping Sherlock would call her back but when she looked, he was jimmying the lock to the apartment. She rolled her eyes in annoyance mixed with anger and stepped into the rickety elevator. A buzz in her pocket made her jump. Her hand dove into her pocket hoping that it was Sherlock begging her to come back and help but instead it was from an unknown number. She clicked answer button and held the phone to her right ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Thomas. Just making sure you gave me your real number." He laughed his deep laugh.

"Oh! Hi Thomas!" She found herself yelling into the phone and laughed. "Sorry…I haven't done this in a while…"

He laughed. "Me either. High School was a long time ago. I forgot how to flirt…" He laughed nervously.

"Well you aren't as bad as me. I get _way_ too excited." She lowered her voice so she wasn't screaming into the phone.

"Haha, don't worry. I think it's kinda cute…" He trailed off in embarrassment.

Joan blushed. "Really? 'Cause it usually scares guys away…"

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I called to ask you if you would like to accompany me to a Yankees game. I've got a ticket with your name on it."

"A Yankees game? Really? I love the Yankees! Of course I would love to accompany you! When?" The elevator doors opened and she stepped out just enough to let the doors close behind her.

"Tomorrow night. Whataya say?"

"I say yes!" She had to fix herself from yelling again.

"Great. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 6pm. See you then."

"Bye!" She hit the end button and started walking while entering Thomas' number into her phone to add him as a contact. She was too engrossed in her phone that she never even saw it coming. A sharp pain in her neck surprised her. She looked up and saw that the room was spinning and everything was fading. She fell to her knees and dropped her phone onto the cheap red carpet. She looked up and saw a man dressed in all black wearing a ski mask…then everything went black as she fell to the ground.

**...**

Sherlock entered the apartment and put his white gloves on. He shut the door and looked around analyzing the filth of the kidnapper's apartment. He walked into the small kitchen and noticed a plastic tub with old salad in it on the counter. He walked through the kitchen and into the master bedroom. The master bedroom was in worse condition than the rest of the cheap apartment. The bed was tossed and the closet was thrown open with clothes on the floor and stuffed on the top shelf. He went to the dresser and opened the top drawer; empty. He opened the bottom drawer; also empty. He continued rummaging through the dresser and came up with nothing. He looked in every nook and cranny in the apartment and finally gave up. He glanced at the wall clock and saw that he had been there for an hour and a half. He set everything back to how he had found it and let himself out. He walked down the hallway to the elevator and hit the down button. He waited and waited and the elevator still didn't come. He looked left and saw a staircase. He opened the door to the stairs and descended the four floors it takes to get to the lobby. The detective exited the building and looked to Joan's car expecting her to be there but she wasn't.

"Odd…" He turned back towards the building and then back to the car. He concluded that she must've taken a cab and continued to the car. He recalled her saying something about going back to the house so he started the car and headed there. He knew she would want to give him a drug test since it had been almost two hours since their separation. Sherlock dreaded going home though; he knew she would want an apology. He knew she deserved one but he just wasn't good at them…they always made things worse.

**…...**

Sherlock parked the car and hopped up the steps to the door of his home. He entered and half-expected her to be waiting there for him but, there was nobody waiting. He shrugged and went into the kitchen; she wasn't there either.

"Watson?" He called upstairs. No answer. "Watson?" He called anxiously. "Are you here?" No answer. "Watson?! If you're trying to make a point about me ignoring you earlier, I get it. You can answer me now." No answer. He started to worry as he skipped up the steps and found vacant rooms. He came back downstairs and grabbed his phone. He dialed her number; no answer. He dialed again; again no answer. He texted her and when she didn't text back, he knew something was wrong. He dialed Captain Gregson and he answered after the third ring.

"Yes Sherlock?" Gregson answered.

"Is Ms. Watson there?" He asked. He could tell his voice was faltering with anticipation and panic.

"No, why? Is something wrong?" He started to sound panicked too.

"She isn't at the house either…" He paced back and forth in the brownstone kitchen.

"Well, maybe she is out with friends or at a meeting?" He suggested.

"We have an agreement to either check in every two hours or text our locations every two hours. She is very adamant about it." He pauses to look at the vacant living room and feels a strange emptiness wash over him.

"I'll be over in 10 minutes with Detective Bell. We'll find her Sherlock. I promise." He hung up the phone and Sherlock continued to stare at the living room. He was about to retire to his study to think when something colorful caught his eye.

He walked into the living room and in the middle of the end-table sat a vase with a freshly cut bouquet of flowers.

**THANK YOU FOR READING AND PLEASE POST A REVIEW. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! :)**

**CLICK NEXT CHAPTER TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES.**


	4. Chapter 4

Joan slowly opened her eyes and blinked until her vision was normal again. She tried to move but something restrained her by the wrists and ankles. The ex-surgeon looked around at the blank cement walls as she tried to kick free.

"Help! Someone please help me!" She screamed hoping somebody would come to her rescue. Joan looked down at the rope around her wrists and noticed that she was still wearing her wrist-watch. She pulled her wrist towards her in order to read the watch better; the watch read 6pm. She had left Sherlock 4 hours ago! "Help!" She yelled again.

"Ah, Ms. Watson. It's pleasure to meet you." Joan heard his heavy footsteps walk up behind her.

"Who are you?" She tried craning her neck around to see his face.

"That's not important." She heard the scraping of a chair against the cement floor and the chair squeaking as the mystery man sat down.

"If it's not important, then why are you hiding from me? Be a man and show yourself. Besides, it'll be easier to talk face to face." Joan found herself trying to be confident and failing miserably at it.

The mystery man laughed at her and got up out of the chair he was sitting in. Joan heard the footsteps come closer and they stopped directly behind her.

"Oh Joan," the man touched her hair tenderly; "you're so beautiful." Joan froze at his touch. She leaned forward trying to put as much space as she could between them.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed. Joan kicked her legs as much as she could, trying to loosen the rope around her ankles.

"Feisty…I like it…" He breathed down her neck. Joan whipped her head to the side and in the process, ended up smacking her head against his.

"Take that you bastard! Let me go!" She screamed in anger. She could hear him walk to her other side and stop.

"If you were smart, you wouldn't have done that." He whispered in her left ear. Joan heard the man walk to the end of the room and come back again.

"Please…" Joan felt herself pleading with the mystery man. She felt a tear travel down her face and drop on her pants.

The man laughed again and Joan felt something cold against her skin. He traced the side of her face and down her neck with the object. She started to shake as she identified the object as a sharp jagged knife.

"Let's have some fun…shall we?" The man laughed as he continued to trace the knife along her face.

**…...**

"So where was the last place you were with her?" Captain Gregson had arrived at Sherlock's home with Detective Bell and had started to process the situation.

"We went to Mr. Mackson's apartment and she left by herself…" Sherlock glanced at the flowers on the end table by the couch Detective Bell was sitting on.

"Why did she leave by herself?" Gregson asked suspiciously. He knew there was more to the story that Sherlock didn't want to tell.

"We fought…She said she was going back to the house…I thought she had taken a cab here so, I drove back here alone and found these." He gestured to the flowers as Gregson made a note in his note-pad.

"So we can assume as to _who_ took her but not _why_." Detective Bell exclaimed as he too, looked at the vase of flowers.

"I think the _why_ is very clear; Mackson knew we were coming and probably was hoping to kidnap _me_ but when Watson exited the building, he settled for taking her instead." Sherlock fidgeted nervously in his armchair. "I shouldn't have let her leave alone…" Sherlock sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's not your fault Sherlock. Mackson is a dangerous man and you couldn't have known he would do this." Gregson tried to reassure Sherlock but the consultant was too busy thinking of all things he could've done to save his sober-companion.

"I've already contacted the owner of the building requesting for us to review the security tapes and he told me he is rushing them over to us right now. They should be here soon." Detective Bell looked at the old wall-clock across the room.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and the owner was standing there holding the tapes. The owner was an old man and clearly hadn't heard of a shower.

"Yer' friend requested these here tapes. I sure do hope you have a VCR to play them in sonny." The old man laughed while he handed the paper bag over to the Detective.

"Thanks Ernie." Detective Bell handed the bag to Sherlock and bid Ernie a goodnight.

"I hope you find your missing lady." Ernie waved as he left the stoop. He strode down the street and disappeared around the corner.

Sherlock had already set up a VCR as Detective Bell came into Sherlock's office.

"You still have a VCR?" Detective Bell asked in surprise. He didn't think anyone used VCR's anymore in this century.

"I like to watch old interrogation tapes in my free time." Sherlock commented as he pushed the VHS marked 'CAMERA 21-D HALLWAY' into the VCR. He pushed play and stood back enough for everyone to see the screen. He pushed the fast-forward button and waited until he saw him and Watson in the hallway. He pressed play and let Gregson and Bell listen in on their fight. Sherlock waited until he saw Watson disappear in the elevator and stopped the tape. He ejected the VHS and rummaged through the paper bag until he came upon another tape that was marked 'CAMERA 5-LOBBY/EXIT'. Sherlock exchanged the tapes and pressed play. He fast-forwarded past the part where they enter and pressed play when he noticed a masked man enter the building and hide behind a pillar beside the elevator. They watched as Watson left the elevator texting (she was actually adding Thomas as a contact) and was attacked by the man with the mask. He injected something into her neck and as she was falling to the ground, produced a screw driver from his coat-pocket. The man unscrewed the panel controlling the elevator and gutted it.

"That must be the reason the elevator didn't arrive for me…" Sherlock interrupted silently.

The man then continued to send a text with Joan's phone, pocketed it, and within a matter of minutes, another masked man entered the building. The men then proceeded to pick Joan up and carry her out of the building. Sherlock could faintly make out a black van parked in front of the building and Joan being loaded into it. Sherlock paused the tape and the room was in silence. The consultant stood there for a few moments before moving swiftly to the parlor. Sherlock grabbed the closest chair and in one fluid movement, placed it in-front-of the bookshelves and stepped up on the chair. He shuffled a couple of books out of the way and grabbed a white hard-covered book.

"Here we go." He jumped down from the chair and walked back to his office. Gregson and Bell were still sitting on the couches as he strode confidently into the room. He ejected the VHS and unplugged the VCR. He grabbed a connection cord, opened the book, grabbed the hidden camera, and connected the camera to the T.V.

"What is that?" Bell asked as Sherlock waited for the T.V. to start playing the footage.

"My secret cameras…This is my sanctum sanctorum…I don't feel comfortable without them." Sherlock turned to face him as the T.V. went blue and then started to play. He paused the VCR as he took a seat.

"Does Joan know about them?" Bell asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Now, are we going to watch and see who put the flowers here or are we going to talk?" Sherlock asked clearly irritated.

"Play it." Bell knew Sherlock was speaking in fear for Watson and decided just to leave him be.

Sherlock pressed fast-forward until he saw a man walk through the kitchen into the living room/parlor. This man was without a mask and was carrying a vase with the flowers with gloves on. He set the flowers down and straightened them out on the end-table. He looked up at the bookshelf and smiled. The man then crossed the living room and let himself out the front door. Sherlock re-wound the footage and paused it at the exact moment the man looked up. Sherlock didn't need to run the man's face through facial recognition because he knew exactly who it was.

"Hello Mr. Mackson." Sherlock spoke aloud to the T.V.

**…...**

"Please don't hurt me…Please!" Joan begged. The man kept tracing her face with the knife.

"Oh Joanie, I'm not going to hurt you…I just want to have some fun, that's all." The man leaned in and sniffed her hair. "Mmmm, you smell…_delicious_."

Joan trembled. "What do you mean by fun?" She asked nervously.

"Just you and me…talking…cuddling…" He leaned in and kissed her ear. Joan let out a sob.

She thought about what he said and a plan came to her. She composed herself and put her plan into action. "If you want me to do anything with you…you're going to have to untie me…" She tried to suggest in the sweetest voice she could.

"Untie you? Now why would I do that?" He was still speaking into her ear.

"I won't able to do anything. You're way too strong and muscular for me…" She talked smoothly.

"Mmm…Keep talking…" He put his hands on her shoulders and started to give her a massage.

"If you want to have any fun, I need to be untied…Then I promise we'll have some fun…" She was disgusted but knew she had to continue to flirt in order to escape.

"Okay…but don't you run…" He knelt down and cut her wrists and ankles free. She stood up and turned to face him. She walked seductively over to him and stopped directly in front of the old man.

"Thank you…Now we can have some _real_ fun." She winked. She wanted to bolt but knew she had to wait a bit longer.

"What first?" He asked leaning in.

"How about…TAG!" She pushed him away and ran towards the end of the room and found a door. She grabbed the knob and was about to turn it and run when a clicking sound made her pause. She had heard the sound before; it was the sound of a gun being taken off its safety.

"Be a good girl and sit back down Joan." A familiar voice ordered.

Joan turned and faced the man with the gun. The man holding the gun was dressed in a NYPD uniform and was smiling his wicked grin.

"Hello Joanie. I'm sorry but I'm afraid you're going to have miss **our **date tomorrow."

**CLICK NEXT TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Thomas?" Joan gasped. Thomas was standing in front of the old man who, being pushed by Ms. Watson, was still struggling to get up off the ground.

"Are you surprised?" He laughed. The gun remained pointed directly at her chest as he talked.

"Why are you doing this? Who _is_ that guy?" Joan gestured towards the elderly man, now standing behind Thomas.

"Why Ms. Watson, I thought you, of all people, would know. You've been around Sherlock the past few days…I'm sure you can guess who he is." He grinned.

"Mackson? The kidnapper?" She started to sweat as she stared down the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

"No, not the kidnapper but yes, this is Mackson." Thomas stepped closer to her, therefore, closing the space between them. The gun was now pressed between her breasts.

She took a moment to process what he had said. "You…you're the kidnapper! But why?" She let her hand slowly travel down the steel door until her hand touched the knob. She let her hand stay there in case he lowered the gun and she could escape.

"Do I have to have a reason? Other than it was fun?" He winked and Joan started to tremble. He clearly wasn't going to lower the gun; she knew too much.

"But why blame all this on _him_? What role did _he_ play?" She looked at the old man who was still cowering behind Thomas.

"He was a perfect cover-up. Everyone thinks it's him…nobody would suspect a highly respected NYPD officer." The man behind Thomas just stared at Joan as if she were a rare species.

"You killed 13 innocent little kids for no reason other than it being _'fun'_?" She couldn't come to grips with who could kill little kids, or anybody, for that matter. They hadn't done anything to deserve it!

"13 people…and soon to be 14." Thomas glared into her eyes and Joan's heart dropped.

**…**

"So…if Mackson was here at the time of Joan's kidnapping…who actually kidnapped her?" Detective Bell asked what everyone in the room was thinking.

"This_ is_ the same time as the kidnapping…so he couldn't have done it. Do you think he has an accomplice?" Captain Gregson asked Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't answer. He was sitting in his chair thinking that it had been 7 hours since Watson had been kidnapped. What if he was too late…

"Sherlock?" Gregson touched Sherlocks shoulder.

"Huh?" Sherlock jumped at his touch. He sighed and lowered his head while closing his eyes.

"Do you think Mackson has an accomplice?" Gregson asked again. He knew Sherlock was going through Hell because of what happened.

"He might…but I also think _Mackson_ could be the accomplice…" Sherlock looked up as if he had just uncovered the greatest clue.

"What do you mean?" Detective Bell watched as Sherlock stood and went to the hallway closet and opened it; then closed it. Gregson and Bell followed him as Sherlock walked into the kitchen and surveyed the scene.

"Nothing was taken. In every Mackson kidnapping, something was taken from the home. I don't see anything missing and I didn't see him take anything on camera…" Sherlock was still searching the room.

"So he forgot. It doesn't mean he isn't the one behind this." Bell watched Sherlock walk into the living room/parlor and make sure nothing was missing or moved.

"A kidnapper wouldn't forget his signature. He may be working for someone else. He didn't take anything so…this can't be his doing." Sherlock came back to the kitchen where Bell and Gregson were still standing after he was sure nothing was moved or taken as a trophy.

"Maybe he forgot or didn't have time…" Bell countered cautiously. He didn't want to make Sherlock mad as he was already under great stress.

"Yet, he remembered the flowers. Even though he left _a_ signature, he didn't take anything. This kidnapper has two distinct signatures; one being that he takes a trophy and the other being the flowers. He wouldn't leave_ just_ the flowers. He had plenty of time to do both…so why didn't he? He knew I would be out with her during the day and it takes a mere 5 seconds to steal something; not even. Mackson doesn't know it but, by not taking anything, he may have just given us a huge clue."

**…**

Joan closed her eyes and waited for the shot that would end her life. When she closed them, she immediately thought about Sherlock and how she would never see him again. Her heart grew even heavier at the thought.

"You don't have to kill her…" The man spoke timidly behind Thomas. Joan opened her eyes at the comment.

Thomas turned to face the man while still keeping his aim with the pistol directed at Joan.

"What?" There was an edge in Thomas' voice.

"You don't have to kill her…You never said you were going to…" The man murmured quietly.

"And why shouldn't I kill her?" The edge was still there and Joan could tell he was going to lose it. She gripped the knob tightly and waited for the right moment.

"You said you were just going to kidnap her and scare her…You never said you would kill her. You said she was for me." The man seemed to be gaining confidence in his words.

"You don't get it, old man. She was never for you. I just said that so you would do _everything _for me. You take the blame and I go free; that was the deal we discussed." He glared at the man.

"We didn't discuss_ murder_." Mackson snapped.

Thomas had heard enough. He directed the gun at Mackson and without hesitation pulled the trigger. It hit Mackson in the shoulder and he stumbled back. Mackson turned to run and Thomas stepped away from Joan to follow him.

Joan took that as her chance to run. She turned the knob and yanked the door open. It was dark outside and the building was surrounded by trees. She didn't think; she just ran. While running towards the tree-line, she heard a gun-shot behind her. Joan didn't know it but Thomas had caught Mackson and shot him in the head. Joan continued to run as fast as she could and when she reached the tree-line, she plunged into the forest. She heard Thomas screaming her name and gun-shots. She looked back for a second and saw him running towards the tree-line. He was gaining on her and Joan pushed herself to run faster and faster. She was struggling to breathe and her lungs were burning. She took a left and ran towards a giant oak tree. She ran behind it and tried to catch her breath while observing her surroundings. She noticed a worn sign nailed to tree and when she approached it, she knew where she was. She was in Ulster County in Catskills Forest Reserve. Joan heard footsteps coming nearer and hid behind the marked tree.

"Joanie!" He sang mockingly. "Where are you?" He walked nearer to her and looked around at the empty forest. She quieted her breathing and stood still as his footsteps approached her. As he was about to walk past her tree, a deer ran and Thomas ran after it thinking it was her.

Joan ran the opposite way and came upon a road. She saw headlights coming towards her and she stood in its path. The driver slowed as she waved her arms wildly trying to get his attention. The man pulled over and she ran to his driver's side window.

"Well hey there missy. What are you doin' in these parts?" He asked politely. The dark masked his face but Joan trusted him entirely. This was her only way to get away.

"Please…I need your help…" Her voice was hoarse and she was gasping for air.

"Well get in. I'll take ya anywhere ya need to go." He smiled as he motioned for her to get in.

"Thanks." She yanked his door open and jumped in. When she got in and shut the door, the window shattered. Thomas had caught up and was trying to shoot her.

"What the…?" The driver started.

"Drive!" Joan interrupted him. She ducked in case Thomas shot the car again.

The man hit the gas and bullets shattered the back windows. Joan continued to sink to the floor and urged the man to drive faster. When they had driven for awhile and the gun-shots stopped, Joan sat up and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ya seem to be in a bit of trouble…" The man looked at her in the rear-view mirror.

"I was kidnapped." A sob caught in her throat and she fought to keep it back. She couldn't cry in front of this man.

"Well, where do ya need to go?" The man asked as they exited the state forest and drove north.

"Do you know where Bakers Street is? It's near the NYPD Headquarters…" She knew she had to get somewhere far away.

"I don't know where Bakers Street is but I know where the NYPD is. That's where ya need to go?"

"Yes please. Also, can I borrow your phone?"

**…**

Sherlock walked into the NYPD Headquarters and headed for Gregson's office. When Bell and Gregson entered, Sherlock closed the door.

"So if you're right about Mackson being the accomplice, who do you think is in charge?" Gregson sat behind his desk and Bell took a seat while Sherlock paced the length of the office.

"I'm not sure…" Sherlock looked at the time and shuddered. Joan had been gone for 8 hours now. He was about to suggest a theory when his phone rang. He grabbed it from his pocket and it was from an unknown number. He answered immediately.

"Hello?" He asked curiously.

"It's me Sherlock." She sighed a sigh of relief. Sherlock stopped pacing.

"Watson?" He asked, desperate to know if she was alright.

"Sherlock!" She cried.

"Watson, are you okay? Where are you?" He asked quickly. He didn't know if she was in danger or if she would be cut off.

"I'm on my way to the NYPD Headquarters. I escaped and someone is driving me. It wasn't Mackson, Sherlock. It was Thomas, Thomas Morrison." She explained, still crying.

"Officer Morrison? Does he know you are gone?" Sherlock asked while Gregson looked out his office window at Thomas' empty desk.

"Yes. He may be following me but we have a huge lead." Joan watched as the driver pulled into the NYPD parking lot. "I'm here now!"

Sherlock ran out of the office and ran down the stairs to the parking lot. He was skipping steps and could hear Captain Gregson trailing close behind.

Joan jumped out of the car and ran towards the entrance on pure adrenaline. She stopped 20ft from the entrance as she watched Sherlock run out. His eyes swept across the parking lot before they settled on her. She was about to run towards him when someone put her in a head-lock and put a gun to her head.

"Joan!" Sherlock ran towards her.

"Stop right there or I blow her brains out!" The driver yelled. Sherlock stopped in his tracks and Gregson stood back too.

"Who are you?" Joan struggled to breathe as the man tightened his grip around her neck.

"Joan, how could you not recognize your own client?" He laughed menacingly.

Joan thought back to the man in the car and realized she was too focused on trying to get away to notice that she had stopped John Morrison.

"John? Why?" She struggled and he tightened his grip even more.

"I have to Joan. I'm sorry but if I don't kill you, he'll cut me off."

"Cut you off from what? Drugs?" She knew the answer but was trying to get him to talk. She looked to Sherlock and his eyes were filled with terror.

"Yes. I'm so sorry Joan. I was fine when you left but the temptations started…I couldn't help myself. Thomas said if I helped him he would supply me with whatever I needed. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry…" He started to sob and loosened his grip. When his grip loosened even more, she kicked back and her heel contacted his knee. John cried out in pain and released his grip. Joan tried to run but John had already recovered.

She felt the bullet enter her back and the last thing she remembered was hitting her head on the pavement and hearing more gun-shots.

Gregson had shot John and he was bleeding out on the pavement. When Sherlock got to Joan's side, she had already gone unconscious.

"Call an ambulance! Hurry!" He screamed to anyone who would listen. "Stay with me Joan…stay with me."

**CLICK NEXT CHAPTER TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES**


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock paced the perimeter of the hospital waiting room as Gregson sat in one of the old chairs that lined the walls.

"Sherlock, maybe you should sit down…" Gregson trailed off as Sherlock shot him a glare.

"I have no need to sit. This helps me think. If I sat, I wouldn't be able to concentrate." Sherlock had stopped pacing and was nervously glancing back and forth between Captain Gregson and the wall-clock.

"May I ask what you need to concentrate on?" Captain Gregson cautiously asked. He didn't want to set Sherlock off.

"Positive thoughts. Logical thinkers always approach matters with rational or reasonable facts…That is a curse on my behalf. I am attempting to approach this with a more positive and hopeful way of thinking." Sherlock started to pace again as he rubbed his hands together anxiously.

"How is being a logical thinker a curse?" Captain Gregson was confused at Sherlocks statement.

"A logical thinker would realize there is a slim chance that she will fully recover from this…but a hopeful or positive thinker would continue to hope and believe that she will fully recover. Joan will be okay. I know it." He sighed and stopped pacing. Sherlock walked over to Gregson and took a seat next to him.

"Sherlock, she _is_ going to be okay. Joan is a fighter, she'll get through this." Gregson smiled light-heartedly and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock was about to add something when a doctor entered the room with a clipboard.

"You're here for…" she looked down at her clipboard, "Ms. Joan Watson?"

"Yes, is she alright?" Sherlock jumped out of his seat and approached the doctor.

"Yes. She is going to fully recover from her injuries." The doctor smiled.

"The bullet didn't hit anything important, did it?" Sherlock asked nervously.

"No. It entered through her back and didn't hit any vital organs. The damage was mostly due to the fall she experienced. When she hit her head on the pavement, she entered a slight comatose state. She should be awake soon." She assured him.

"How soon?" Gregson had gotten up and was now standing behind Sherlock.

"Hard to tell. It could be a few hours or a few days." The doctor dropped the clipboard to her side.

"But she has already been in her coma for two days." Sherlock looked to the doctor for an explanation but the doctor ignored him.

"If you want to see her…" The doctor offered.

"Yes, please." Sherlock interrupted.

"Okay, follow me please." The doctor led them down a long white hallway and turned left. They continued to follow her until they came upon a room. "Room 234. I'll be down the hall if you need anything." With that, the doctor took her leave.

Sherlock slowly walked over to the side of Joan's hospital bed and let his eyes travel up and down her body. He studied the bandage wrapped around her chest and the small bandages on her head where she hit the ground. He lightly touched her hand and looked at her face. She looked so peaceful…

"She must've hit the ground really hard." Gregson had been standing at the foot of the bed as Sherlock had been analyzing her. Sherlock had forgotten that Gregson was even there.

"Must've…" Sherlock was still staring at her face. He was hoping that she would open her eyes and everything would go back to normal.

"Sherlock, you should go home and get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in days…" Gregson knew Sherlock wouldn't want to but it was true; Sherlock looked exhausted.

"That's because I haven't. Ever since she got kidnapped, I haven't been able to close my eyes without imagining everything that could've happened to her. Now that she's in the hospital, I can't fall asleep because she may wake up and I want to be there when she does." Sherlock had intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed.

"You need sleep." Gregson wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"I agree, but I don't want to leave her here knowing we still haven't found Thomas." Sherlock looked up at Gregson.

"I'll call in and get Bell and some other officers to guard the room, but for now, you need to go home and get some rest."

"Fine." He let go of her hand and started for the door. "Call me if anything happens." Sherlock exited the room and headed for the stairs.

Gregson stood in Joan's room and pulled out his cell. He dialed Detective Bell's number and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Bell answered.

"Detective Bell, I need you to come to the hospital bring some officers to keep watch over Joan until we find Thomas."

"Alright. We'll be right there." Bell was about to hang up when Gregson added a request.

"Also, have someone sent over to Sherlock's house. I know he wouldn't just leave because I told him to; he's planning something." Gregson looked over at where Joan was and hung up. He took a seat and waited for the officers to show up.

**…**

As the cab pulled in front of Sherlock's home, Sherlock was too tired to notice the cab driver telling him the cost of his ride. Sherlock snapped out of it and paid him quickly. He walked up the stairs and entered the house groggily. He plopped on the couch and tried closing his eyes.

"Sleep…You need it." He kept repeating in his head. "Sleep…"

Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep so he got up and made himself some cereal. He took a seat by his old case files and noticed the Mackson file still lying on the table. He looked through it and the night when Joan was kidnapped played in his head. As he was reading some of the old reports, his phone beeped alerting him to a text message. He jumped in his seat and grabbed his phone to read it.

_**'You killed my brother' **_was all it said.

Sherlock jumped up and took a second look at the message. As he was standing a new message showed up.

**_'So I'm going to kill you.'_**

Sherlock dropped the phone in shock and ran to lock the doors; too late. Thomas jumped him from behind and wrapped his arm across Sherlock's shoulders while holding a knife to his throat.

"Hello Sherlock, how's Joanie?" Thomas laughed.

"Better than your brother." Sherlock snapped. Thomas didn't see the humor and turned Sherlock around, still holding the knife to his throat. Sherlock observed that Thomas was wearing gloves but Sherlock couldn't figure out why.

"Don't test me. You don't know what I'm capable of…" Thomas glared. He dropped the knife and stepped back. "So, let's be men and fight with our hands." He smiled wickedly.

"Sounds good to me." Sherlock dove for his throat and squeezed. They fell to the floor and Sherlock was straddling him, still squeezing his throat. Thomas smiled and closed his eyes. Sherlock didn't know it but Thomas was removing his gloves behind Sherlock's back. Sherlock found it weird how Thomas wasn't fighting back but that was the farthest thing from his mind. He was too engrossed in getting revenge for what he did to Joan. Sherlock felt someone yanking him off of Thomas and handcuffing him.

The cop pushed Sherlock to the side as he bent down and checked Thomas' pulse. Thomas was dead; with the smile still plastered on his face. The cop stood back up and grabbed Sherlock's shoulder roughly.

"Let's go Sherlock." The cop led Sherlock out of the house and put him in the police car. After the officer had gotten into the driver's seat, he dialed Captain Gregson.

…

Captain Gregson was startled when he heard rustling in Joan's room. He entered and saw Joan was tossing and turning in the bed. He dashed to her side as she started murmuring and groaning.

"Sherlock…" Her eyes opened slightly and then closed.

"Ms. Watson?" He watched as her eyes opened fully and looked around the room.

"Sherlock?" She asked in a daze. Joan blinked and looked up at Captain Gregson.

"You're awake." He smiled happily.

"Where's Sherlock?" She asked. Her hand traveled up to her head and she groaned.

"Home, getting some much needed rest. I'll call him to tell him you're awake." He grabbed his cell and was about to call Sherlock when he got another call. He answered expecting Sherlock to be on the other line.

"Hello?" Pause. "Sherlock is _where_?!" Gregson turned away from Joan and listened. After a little bit longer, he hung up and looked back at her.

"What's the matter? Where's Sherlock?" She asked, worried. She tried to sit up but winced in pain and settled back in.

Gregson sat down by her bed and sighed. "He's…in jail."

**Thank you for reading! Please post a review and favorite my story! :D**

**CLICK NEXT CHAPTER TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES**


	7. Chapter 7

"Why?" Gregson sighed and took a seat across from Sherlock in the dimly-lit interrogation room at the NYPD Heaquarters.

Sherlock remained silent. He was looking at his hands…the hands that killed a human being…

"Sherlock. You need to talk. I need, no…I _want_ to understand what happened." Gregson looked as Sherlock slowly lifted his head and made eye contact.

"I killed him." Sherlock lowered his head again.

"Why did you kill him?" Gregson pushed for more information. 'I killed him' wouldn't sound good to a jury.

"He kidnapped Joan. I had to…" Sherlock continued to look at his hands and refused to make eye contact again.

"Okay…Explain what happened. Start from the beginning please." Gregson wasn't using his usual "bad-cop, good cop" routine. This was his colleague…his friend.

Sherlock spoke with his head down. "I went home, laid down on the couch and couldn't sleep so I had cereal while looking over the Mackson case. A text came in and it said 'You killed my brother' and 'So I'm going to kill you'. I ran to lock the doors and he jumped me from behind. He held a knife to my throat but said he wanted us to fight with our hands instead; to make it fair. I jumped on him when he dropped the knife and choked him…I got so angry…I couldn't stop." Sherlock fidgeted in the metal chair while Gregson listened intently.

"_He_ had a knife?" Gregson seemed shocked.

"Yes. Didn't you find one at the scene?" Sherlock looked up at Gregsons concerned face.

"Yes but…It didn't have any fingerprints on it other than yours." Captain Gregson knew what Sherlock did wasn't right but knew he would've done the same thing if someone hurt somebody close to him.

"That's because it was _my_ knife. I told you, he was in my house. He could've got it from the kitchen." Sherlock was getting frustrated. He didn't like to be questioned and analyzed by anyone.

"If he was holding the knife, why weren't his fingerprints on it?" This was just a formality question. He knew Thomas must've worn something on his hands so he wouldn't leave any traces behind.

"He wore gloves…I didn't know why until I actually thought about it. It all makes sense! He was trying to make me kill him!" Sherlock slammed his fist down on the table in anger.

"Trying to _make_ you kill him? What made you come to that conclusion?" Gregson didn't know why anyone would want to make someone else choke them to death…

"He didn't fight back. Thomas said he wanted to fight with our hands and knew I was in a bloody rage! He knew I would jump at the chance to hurt him." Sherlock put his face in his hands as he realized that he had been tricked into murder.

"He didn't fight back? You know how bad that sounds, right?" Gregson was worried because it did, indeed, sound bad.

"Yes it sounds bad but it's the truth." Sherlock emphasized the word 'truth' as Gregson leaned back in his chair. "If you don't believe me, check my cameras. They must've caught the whole thing!" Sherlock felt hope as he remembered that his house was **filled** with cameras.

"We did, Sherlock. The cameras weren't working at the time of your attack. I find it suspicious but a jury won't." Gregson leaned forward. "Listen Sherlock, I don't know how or if you're going to get out of this but I will try everything to get you a reduced sentence."

"I killed a man who kidnapped Watson and was going to kill her and I get the jail sentence? Don't you see something strange in that?" Sherlock was getting anxious. He didn't want to go to jail…not for murder.

"I do, but even though he committed those crimes, he is _still_ a human being. You can't just kill a man." Captain Gregson stood up and dragged his chair to the spot next to Sherlock. He sat and Sherlock looked down again.

"I killed a man who was going to kill someone I…" Before he could finish, someone tapped the glass.

"Hold that thought." Gregson got up and left the room.

Sherlock sat in silence while waiting for Gregson to return. He thought about how if he went to jail he wouldn't get to see Joan and wouldn't be able to work with the NYPD for a long time. 'What have I done?' was the only thing he could say.

"Captain Gregson? I need to tell you something…" Sherlock stood up from his chair as his colleague entered the room again.

"Sit down, Sherlock. Someone is here to see you." Gregson moved aside as Sherlock took a seat. A man dressed in a black suit entered the room and sat in Gregson's chair next to Sherlock.

"My name is Harvey Lefate. I was appointed by your father to be your lawyer." The man smiled and began to open his briefcase.

"I don't need a lawyer…especially one appointed by my father." Sherlock pushed the papers away that Harvey had placed in front of him. "I will do fine on my own."

"Mr. Lefate, if Sherlock doesn't need your services, you'll have to leave." Captain Gregson was standing in front of the door.

"He needs me. I can get your sentence reduced to battery. Count on it. You'll spend less than a year in jail if you decide to use me as your lawyer in court." The man pushed the papers back in front of Sherlock.

"I don't want a reduced sentence. I must pay for my wrong-doing." Sherlock stood and walked towards the wall.

"Your father has already paid for my services…" The man started.

"Then consider the payment a donation. I don't need you. And I especially don't need anyone that '_my_ _father' _hired." Sherlock scoffed. That man didn't care about him, he never had. The man did what he did out of the feeling of needing to.

"Oh, I see. This is your _pride_ talking. Your father told me you wouldn't want my help because of the petty feud between you two." Harvey packed his briefcase and stood up.

"I think it's time for you to leave Mr. Lefate." Gregson knew that Harvey had over-stepped a boundary. Gregson walked him out of the room quickly before Sherlock made a rude remark. Gregson returned and closed the door behind him.

"I don't need a lawyer." Sherlock stated. He was still facing the wall.

"He could've helped Sherlock. You need all the help you can get…" Gregson walked up behind Sherlock and put his hand on Sherlock's back. "This doesn't look good for you."

Sherlock shrugged Captain Gregson's hand off and sat in the chair. He lowered his head and Gregson knew he wouldn't get anything else out of him so he quietly left Sherlock in silence.

**…**

Joan couldn't think straight. 'Sherlock? In jail? How? Why?' These were just a few questions she had annoyingly asked Detective Bell repeatedly. Even though they had been working together for a month now, Bell couldn't release anything about Sherlock's case.

"Detective Bell?" She called from her room to the hallway.

He entered and she could tell he was annoyed.

"Yes?" He asked, trying a little too hard to be kind in his words.

"Any new updates from Gregson about Sherlock?" Joan asked. She could tell Bell was tired and cranky but she must've finally got to him.

"Captain Gregson is questioning him right now. I will tell you if there is anything new, okay?" He sighed in exhaustion.

"Okay. Thank you." She smiled and he left. She settled back in and thought of how Sherlock was in a big mess with almost no way out. She needed to help him…but how?

She perked up as she came up with an idea. "Bell?" She called again.

He stomped into the room like an impatient child. "Yes?" He rolled his eyes.

"Can you call Gregson and tell him that I would like to testify against Thomas. I want to tell the jury that _Thomas_ was the bad guy, not Sherlock." As Joan was explaining this to Detective Bell, his face showed an expression of surprise and shock.

"Joan, you know testifying is a difficult and stressful process, right?" He walked nearer to her bed and sat in the chair beside it.

"Yes, I know. But I still would like to." She looked into his deep brown eyes.

He pulled out his cell and dialed Gregson's number. "Are you sure?" He asked one last time while raising his eyebrows at her.

"I'm sure." Joan watched as he hit the call button and put the phone to his ear.

**…**

Sherlock had been sitting in the same position for an hour now and was beginning to get used to the heavy silence around him when Captain Gregson came in to the room again.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked in annoyance as Gregson took the seat across from him.

"You may win the case after all." Captain Gregson stated proudly.

"And how on earth will I do that?" Sherlock glanced up suspiciously. He knew his freedom was long shot in court without a miracle.

"Joan is going to testify."

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	8. Chapter 8

"The jury's still deliberating?" Gregson took a sip of his freshly poured coffee as he addressed Detective Bell. Sherlock's trial had gone as well as it could've gone for a murder case. Joan had done a terrific job testifying on Sherlock's behalf and the jury seemed convinced that Sherlock had done the state of New York a favor by killing Mr. Morrison. Thomas was off the streets and wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else ever again.

"Yeah. They can't seem to come to a decision." Bell grabbed the coffee pot and filled his cup to the top. He added two sugar packets and one cream. He applied a cover and began walking with Gregson down the hall to the Captain's office.

"How long have they been gone from the courtroom?" Gregson walked into his office and Bell shut the door as he entered close behind him.

The Detective checked his wrist-watch. "Five hours. The trial started at 10 o'clock and the jury left at noon."

Gregson groaned. "This is the most stressful part of the trial. If they come to a decision right away, it could be good or bad…If they take awhile, it could also be good or bad." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Do you think they'll find him guilty?" Gregson had been dreading the question. He knew Sherlock had murdered someone but Thomas had also killed Mackson, kidnapped Joan, and framed Sherlock for his own murder. All this evidence against Thomas sounded incriminating but the jury could counter by saying 'Sherlock wasn't stable' or play the theory card. Since there was no footage or witnesses to the attack, nobody knew if Sherlock's statement about how Thomas framed him for the murder was true or not. After all, it was just a theory.

"I think the jury will make the right decision…" Detective Bell chose his words carefully. He didn't want to admit that working on cases without Sherlock would be difficult but…the consultant was a pain in the ass…

Gregson was about to respond when his phone went off. He glanced at the alert and looked up at Bell.

"Good news?" Bell took another swig of his coffee.

"The jury is back with a decision…" Gregson exited his office with Detective Bell following close behind.

…

Sherlock was tired of sitting in the uncomfortable courtroom chairs doing absolutely nothing. His boredom was overwhelming and he kept shaking his foot impatiently. He looked over at the empty jury box and sighed. Even though he was going certifiably insane due to his boredom, at least he had something to think about. _ Joan… _She had helped him out so tremendously and he needed to thank her…but why? Why had she helped him out? He had acted like a complete jerk ever since they met in September… He cared for her but he never would've thought anyone would care for him enough to do what she did for him today… Maybe it was time to finally trust her completely…

Sherlock snapped out of his thought-dream as the jury filed back into the courtroom. He turned to see Captain Gregson and Detective Bell enter the courtroom and take a seat next to other officers from the precinct. The judge returned to the courtroom and took her seat. Sherlock stood and took a deep breath.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Reane asked the jury.

One juror stood. "We have, your Honor."

"Alright. Please state the verdict." The Judge glanced at Sherlock and then back at the jury.

"On the count of murder in the second degree, we find the defendant…"

**…**

Joan exited the courthouse and strolled down the steps until she was standing behind Captain Gregson.

"Captain Gregson." She tapped him on the shoulder playfully.

The Captain turned and smiled. "Ms. Watson. I thought you left before the verdict."

"No, I had to see the verdict…" Her smile vanished and she switched subjects. "How did I do? You know, with testifying?"

"You did great. I think you really got to the jury; they saw how much you care for Sherlock…" He trailed off as he noticed her blush slightly. "You really care for him, don't you?"

She blushed even more. "Well…sure…but, as a client." She avoided his eyes. "Sherlock needs me…" She was staring across the street at a couple holding hands and laughing.

Gregson smiled lightly and left her to stare.

Joan felt herself turn red in embarrassment. She continued to stroll down the steps and hit the crosswalk button. When it signaled her to walk, she high-tailed it across to Emil's Bar. Joan entered the bar and took a seat at the counter.

"Can I have an apple martini?" She asked as the bartender walked by. He nodded and in a few moments, her drink was in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip. Just because her clients weren't allowed to drink doesn't mean she can't either. She stared at the empty bar stool next to her and nearly screamed in surprise when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to see a man standing there.

"Is that seat taken?" He motioned to the empty bar stool.

"Oh, um…no. Go ahead." She smiled and scooted over a little so he could sit.

"My name is Jeff." He offered her his hand.

"Joan." She accepted the handshake. She looked back to her martini.

"So, what's a pretty lady, like yourself, doing here all alone?" He smiled as his gaze traveled down her body.

She cleared her throat and he looked to her eyes again. "I've had a pretty stressful day."

"Oh, really? Why is that?" The bartender placed a beer in front of him and he took a large drink.

"I…well…testified today…" She laughed. Why was she telling this man she just met about her day?

"For what?" It seemed that the statement hadn't bothered him.

She laughed and remained silent for a few seconds. "Well…just something private."

"Oh, I see. Sorry." He apologized.

"Its alright. Its just…I have some trouble trusting people right now and I just met you…soooo…" She took a sip of her martini.

"Ah…Well that's alright." He finished his beer and left a tip on the bar. "I know this seems really forward but…can I have your number?"

Joan thought back to what had happened with Thomas and shook her head. "Sorry…I'm kinda…with somebody…" She blushed.

"Oh. Well whoever he is, he's a very lucky guy. Nice meeting you." He took his leave and Joan saw him hail a cab outside.

"I don't mean to butt in or anything but, I'm glad you turned that tool down." Joan turned and saw that the bartender had been observing the whole conversation.

"What do you mean by tool?" She finished her martini with one last sip.

"He comes here every two days looking for girls like yourself. He asks them for their number and treats them like a princess before humping and dumping them. If I had any authority here, I would ban him." The bartender cleaned up a beer glass and picked up the man's tip. "I wouldn't want you to fall into that trap. I've seen it too many times." The man shook his head slowly and sighed.

"Well I don't really trust anyone now so his little scheme wouldn't have worked either way." She sighed. Bartenders were just like therapists or as Sherlock called them, Angus'.

"Except your boyfriend?" The bartender realized he may have overstepped and apologized quickly.

"Its alright. He's not _really_ my boyfriend…I just live with him…Its my job." She couldn't really explain it without it either breaking the client-companion relationship or making it sound like they were in a romantic relationship.

"Is your job the reason you're here now?" He gazed around the room at the hopeless drunks and the cheating husbands.

"No…Not really." She replied quietly.

"Is it your…um, roommate?" He corrected himself.

"Yeah. His trial was today." She remained monotone.

"Good news?" The bartender could tell she was depressed.

"Sort-of…Well yes…and no. Not guilty for second degree…" She paused, sighed, and continued, "murder…" She whispered so nobody would hear.

The bartender looked as though it didn't matter. "Well that's good, right?"

"Yeah but he was declared guilty for battery and is required to go to anger management classes and jail for a month." She sighed. It was good that he wasn't guilty on the biggest charge but this meant she wouldn't be able to see him for awhile.

"You'll miss him." It wasn't a question but a statement. She may not have known the bartender personally but Joan knew what he said was true.

She smiled and paid her tab. She left a generous tip and the bartender thanked her. Joan exited the bar and checked her phone for the time. She had been in the bar for about an hour and had nowhere to go but the empty Brownstone. This was going to be a lonely night.

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	9. Chapter 9

A buzzing sound awoke Joan from a deep sleep. She popped her head up a little and shrugged it off, thinking it had been a figment of her imagination. The buzz sound repeated twice more. It took her a few more moments before she realized it was the doorbell. Joan jumped out of bed quickly and ran down the stairs whilst putting her robe on. She came to a stop before the door so she could tighten her robe and took a deep breath. Joan opened the door calmly and greeted the Captain standing on the doorstep.

"Captain Gregson, I wasn't expecting you." She smiled. "Please come in."

Captain Gregson nodded as he stepped in past her. He made his way to the parlor and sat in one of the chairs and Joan joined him.

"Is there any news on Sherlock?" It had been three days since Sherlock had started his jail sentence and Joan had been feeling lonely without him. She had to admit, before working with Sherlock she would've been savoring the alone time, but now it was lonely and boring.

"Haven't you talked to him?" Gregson looked surprised. He would've thought that she would've already gone to Sing Sing and talked to him.

"I tried yesterday but they said I couldn't speak to him because I wasn't a cop nor was I with one." Joan leaned back on the couch and sighed.

"Probably because you testified; usually it doesn't matter." Gregson pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" She looked at him curiously.

"Sing Sing Prison. I'll get us a meeting with him." Gregson smiled. He excused himself to the kitchen when someone picked up and they began a conversation.

Joan smiled to herself. She was finally going to be able to talk to him for the first time since before the whole Thomas incident. Gregson walked back into the room with a hint of a slight smile on his usual stony face.

"So?" Joan asked anxiously. She leaned forward in anticipation.

"You can see him. I'll have to be there but you guys can have some alone time when I 'go get coffee'." Captain Gregson smirked playfully.

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" She ran to him and hugged him in excitement. She released in embarrassment but felt better when she saw he was still smiling.

"We better get going then." He eyed her robe and she took the hint to go upstairs and get ready.

"I'll be down soon; feel free to grab some breakfast from the kitchen!" The ex-surgeon called as she ran up the stairs to get ready.

**…**

As Sherlock was staring at the ceiling in his cell, his mind began to wander. _Maybe I could break out…no, no I have to be good… That warden is definitely cheating on his wife…I wonder what Joan is doing right now…_

The warden cleared his throat impatiently. "Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock sat up and looked at the scrawny man who had addressed him. Instead of answering, he raised an eyebrow in question.

"You have a visitor."

"And may I ask who this visitor is?" Sherlock had stood and was making his way toward the warden.

"The Captain." The warden inserted the key into the steel door lock and yanked to open it. When the warden had finally gotten the heavy door open, he grabbed Sherlock's arms and pulled them behind his back. The scrawny man handcuffed him and pushed him forward. Sherlock could tell that the man was trying to show dominance over him. All Sherlock could do was go along with it so he wouldn't get into more trouble.

Sherlock was pushed forcefully down the corridor and into the meeting rooms. The warden led him to a table in the middle of the room and un-cuffed him. Sherlock rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had been and sat down as the warden took his place at the door. Another cop unlocked the door across the room and Gregson strode in.

"Sherlock." The Captain nodded slightly as he took a seat across the table.

"Captain, it's nice to see you." Sherlock placed his hands on the table. He fidgeted in his seat. _What could the Captain want?_

"How's jail treating you?" Gregson leaned forward and smiled jokingly.

"Oh it's nice; roomy actually." Sherlock sarcastically remarked as he rolled his eyes.

"Have you made any friends?" Gregson smirked. He knew Sherlock had no friends; just acquaintances.

"One, actually. Well that was until I deduced that he was sleeping with a warden and cheating on his wife. Now he just gives me death stares…" Sherlock replied with a smug look on his face.

"I wonder why." Gregson laughed. "You really need some people skills, Sherlock."

"No, I don't. If I learned people skills, I would have to make room for it in my mind. I will not do so, seeing as it is not important. I am too smart for everyone I meet; it is rare when I find someone who is on the same intellectual level as me." Sherlock grinned.

"You're full of it." Gregson leaned back and ran his hand through his hair.

"So, is that all?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands together.

"No, someone wanted to see you." Gregson stood and the officer guarding the door stepped aside so Watson could enter.

"Watson." Sherlock gasped as he clumsily got to his feet.

Joan was expecting him to make snide remarks like 'look who's _finally_ awake' or 'did you get enough sleep Watson?' but instead he ran to her and before she knew it, she was in his embrace.

"Watson." He repeated softly in her ear. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart. "I'm so glad you're okay." He released and looked her in the eyes. "Really glad." He smiled warmly.

"I'm glad you're okay too. When I got knocked out I heard gunshots…I thought you got hurt." She gazed into his grey eyes. She smirked, "I'm also glad that nobody has beaten you up…yet." She laughed softly.

"If you'll excuse me; I'm going to get some coffee." Gregson stayed true to his promise and left them to be alone.

He pulled her to the table and she sat across from him. They stared at each other for a few more moments before Sherlock broke the silence.

"So how is your wound?" He looked down to where she had been shot with a worried expression on his face.

"It hurt at first but the doctors prescribed me some strong med's." She winced as pain shot through her. She had been in such a rush this morning that she forgot to take some medication for the pain.

"Strong med's? I'll have to try them…" He laughed.

"Sherlock!" She was shocked. He was making a joke about relapsing!

"Oh come on Watson, I was kidding!"

Joan gave him a glare. "Don't joke like that." She crossed her arms and frowned.

Sherlock almost burst out laughing at how she looked. She looked like a five year old who had been just denied a new toy! "Joan…" He tried to make her look at him. When she wouldn't look at him, he reached out for her hand. She jumped a little in surprise and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry." He gave an apologetic smile.

"Fine. But don't say it again." She frowned disappointingly.

"I won't, don't worry. I'm never going to relapse; I've come too far to lose it all. Thanks to you." He squeezed her hand and Joan smiled.

Gregson returned with coffee and Sherlock yanked his hand away from hers. Joan looked to Sherlock for an explanation for why he let her hand go and found only a red face. Sherlock was embarrassed…The ex-surgeon couldn't help but smile; she didn't think someone like Sherlock could get embarrassed.

"Time's up." The warden had appeared behind Sherlock and was motioning for him to get up.

Sherlock looked terrified. He didn't want to have to go back to an empty cell and have nothing to do but think. He looked to Joan and she could tell immediately what he was thinking.

"Don't worry Sherlock. Only a few weeks till you're out and then you can do whatever you want. I'll be here when you get released." She smiled and stood to leave. Gregson was standing behind her.

Gregson lightly pushed Watson and she left. "I'll make sure she's safe, Sherlock. You have nothing to worry about." He smiled and took his leave.

Sherlock was ushered back to his cell where he laid down and went into deep thought before finally drifting to sleep.

…

Gregson had given Joan a ride back to the Brownstone and had offered to take her to dinner but she politely declined saying she was going to turn in early. It had been a long day and she had spent most of it at the prison talking to Sherlock. After that, Gregson had taken her to the precinct so she didn't have to go home alone. Now, he made sure Joan was safely inside before driving away into the dark night.

Joan walked into the empty Brownstone and sighed. She slumped down on the couch and reached for her reading book on the end-table. She opened and began reading.

When the clock struck 8 o'clock, she woke. The ex-surgeon had fallen asleep reading and was incredibly hungry. She groggily made her way to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards looking for something to eat for dinner. When she opened the top cabinet, she decided that she should just have some cereal. She prepped everything for cereal and put the kettle on the burner to make tea. When the kettle whistled, she poured a cup and sat alone at the empty dining table while she ate quietly. When she took a bite of her cereal, her mind wandered to Sherlock.

**She missed him…badly. **

"I have to get my mind off of him or the month is going to feel like years." She told herself. She cleaned her dinner up and poured the rest of the kettle contents into the sink before washing it out. She went back to the parlor and looked around for something to do. Her eyes settled on Sherlock's table with knick-knacks, locks, and experiments on it. She pulled up a chair and decided it was time she learned to pick locks.

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	10. Chapter 10

The enticing smell of eggs and bacon filled the Brownstone as Joan sat upstairs reading.

When Joan smelled the delicious scent, she immediately became aware that someone was in the house _with_ her. She silently closed her book, set it on her comforter, and crept across the floor sneakily. When she reached the hallway, she poked her head out and scanned for any sign of life. When nobody was there, she tip-toed to her closet and took out her baseball bat. She gripped it tightly as she snuck down the creaky stairs and peeked into the parlor. The scent grew stronger and she started to get scared.

_Someone's here…I know it. But who? _

She crept across the parlor floor and hid behind the wall by the entry to the kitchen. She took a deep breath and poked her head into the kitchen just enough to see that nobody was there.

_I'm going crazy._

She was about to head back upstairs when she noticed a plate of freshly made scrambled eggs with coffee and bacon on the side. She analyzed the eggs, puzzled as to who put them there.

"I highly doubt a burglar would leave me a delicious breakfast…"She joked to herself.

"Talking to yourself, Watson?" A voice came from behind her.

She shrieked as she turned to face the voice and poised to strike him with the bat.

"Jesus, Watson!" Sherlock nearly fell backwards. He didn't know she was packing heat.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here?!" She dropped the bat to her side and let out a sigh of relief. "You didn't get bored of prison and break out like you did with rehab, did you?" She crossed her arms, still holding the bat as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Well I _was_ bored…" He tried to joke but when he noticed she was still glaring at him, he continued, "but I didn't break out, Joan. They released me early on good behavior." He smiled.

"_You_? _Good behavior_?" She laughed. Sherlock? Good behavior? This just had to be a joke.

"_Yes_. I _can_ be good Joan." He smirked and walked past her to sit at the table. When he took his seat, Joan joined him; still holding the bat.

"Uh-huh…_Sure_." She wasn't buying it. Sherlock was never on his best behavior...

"Fine. Don't believe me." He crossed his arms while leaning back in his chair.

"The _reason_ I don't believe you is because you always have temper tantrums when something doesn't go your way. You want me to believe that _everything_ went your way in prison?" She leaned back, still not buying it.

"Joan…" He started.

"Should I call Captain Gregson and ask _him_ if you broke out?" She pulled out her cell phone and began to dial.

"I did it for _you_, Joan." He replied in a serious tone.

She stopped dialing and looked up in surprise. "You _broke out _for me?" She asked, voice rising.

"No. No, I was on my best behavior for you. I knew that if I acted like I was the nicest person in the world I would get out early and I'd be able to see you." He smiled as he took in her expression.

"Really?" She cancelled the call and put her cell on the table. She could tell he was telling the truth.

"Yes. Now, will you _please_ put the bat away?" He eyed the baseball bat lying in her lap.

"No." She pulled the now, cold breakfast towards her. "I still need it." She didn't look at him as she began to eat.

When she didn't look at him, he got nervous. "Why?"

"I need it to teach you NEVER TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME AGAIN." She gave him a death glare as she wrapped one hand around the base of the bat.

"You wouldn't dare." He glanced down at the bat and then back at her.

"Scare me like that again and I will." She was staring at him and found that it was extremely hard to continue to be angry with him.

"I didn't mean to scare you Watson. I left the kitchen to come to your room and surprise you but when I got there, you weren't there." He watched as she devoured the eggs he had made for himself. "That's when I came down here and saw you drooling over my eggs." He looked at the now, empty plate.

"Oh, were these _your_ eggs?" She lifted the plate and tipped it towards him. "_Too_ bad." She said playfully as she set the plate back down and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

He rolled his eyes. "Were they good at least?" He felt his stomach growl as he thought about them.

"_Delicious_." She smirked.

**…**

Joan hit the button for the 5th floor of the NYPD Headquarters and as the doors closed, she began to feel lonely again. Sherlock had gone to his anger management class that he was required to attend and Joan had been denied the chance to accompany him. Apparently, it was a private meeting.

When the doors opened, she stepped out and was immediately greeted by Gregson.

"Ms. Watson, what are you doing here?" Gregson paused and walked towards her.

"Sherlock is at a meeting and I didn't want to sit in an empty house again. I hope you don't mind." She replied.

"Of course not; maybe you can help on our new case." He motioned for her to walk with him and they walked to his office.

"What's the new case?" She asked as they stepped into his office.

"A man is running an illegal hospital out of his home. We could really use your help in identifying the different chemicals we found. It would be faster than sending them to the lab and waiting for the results." He laughed.

"Sure, I'd love to help." She watched as he pulled out evidence bags from a file box on his desk and handed them to her. She turned the bags over in her hands and analyzed the liquid in the bags. She slightly opened the bag and inhaled the scent.

"Can you tell what they are?" He watched as she set them down one by one onto the desk.

She pointed to one of the evidence bags. "This is liquid Sodium Chloride; it's used as a general cleanser. It's also used as an antiseptic mouthwash. Though it has only a weak antiseptic effect, which is due to hyperosmolality of the solution above 0.9%." She pointed to the next bag. "This one is Sodium Bicarbonate; it's used as an antiseptic in surgeries and also as a disinfectant." She pointed to the last bag. "And this is Hydrogen peroxide; it's used as a 6% solution to clean and deodorize wounds and ulcers. More common 3% solutions of hydrogen peroxide have been used in household first aid for scrapes, etc. However, even this less potent form is no longer recommended for typical wound care as the strong oxidization causes scar formation and increases healing time."

"You got all that from smelling them?" He smiled.

"I've worked with all of them countless times. I can recognize the smell anywhere." She smiled back.

"Do you know where you can buy these kinds of chemicals?" Gregson asked curiously as he labeled each evidence bag with the names of the chemical.

"Probably from any druggie doctor. They aren't cheap though. I can talk to my friend at the hospital and she can test them to get the serial number for each. Then we can track where they came from and go from there." She smiled. She felt like she was really helping out…almost like she was a detective…

"That'd be great. Thanks. Can you call her now?" Gregson dropped the marker he had been using to write on the bags.

"Sure." She watched as he started to leave to inform the other detectives of their findings. "Wait…I need to ask you something…"

He stopped and turned toward her. "Yes?"

"Is there any way…um, can you…" She stuttered.

"What is it Joan?" He stepped toward her.

"Can you train me on being a consulting detective?" She rushed her words embarrassed by what she was asking.

"Like Sherlock?" He asked surprised.

"Well…yeah." She admitted.

"Why don't you ask him to train you?" He asked, curious as to why she would rather be taught by him and not the best consulting detective in the world.

"I don't want to be his 'apprentice'…" She made a look of annoyance and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I see." He laughed. "Then sure. Of course I'll train you." He smiled.

"Thank you so much!" She replied as he turned to leave but she quickly added something. "And one more thing…don't tell him about this…please?" She begged.

"Alright…I won't." He smiled and left the office. She sat on the edge of his desk and sighed.

**…**

Sherlock walked into the tiny room packed with people and took a seat in the back of the room. He looked around at all the people and could tell most of them were on edge for no reason. _They_ needed anger management but he sure didn't.

"Everyone please sit. We are about to start."

Sherlock looked up at the skinny blonde woman sitting behind the desk in the front of the room. She stood and addressed the class.

"Hello everyone. My name is Carmyn Leane but you can call me Miss Leane." She smiled and Sherlock sunk down in his seat.

He looked her up and down. Skinny waist, piercing blue eyes, light freckles, pale skin, and perfect blonde hair. He looked down and tried to distract himself from her gaze.

"You. Mr. Holmes." She called from the front of the room.

His head shot up and found her staring intently at him. "Yes?" He tried to fake interest in what she was going to ask of him.

She walked towards him, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she did so. He sunk down deeper into his chair and tried to avoid her blue eyes. He looked up as she cleared her throat. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. He froze as he felt her breath against the side of his head.

"P.S. I _love_ the accent." She slowly stood up, her gaze never leaving his. She walked back to the front of the room, hips swaying seductively. He found himself watching her and snapped his gaze away when he realized what he was doing.

The next hour went by slowly as Sherlock forced himself to listen and not go into a trance. He also had to try to keep avoiding Carmyn's gaze.

"And that's it for our first lesson! I'll see you all tomorrow at the same time." She dismissed the class and stood by the door bidding everyone a good afternoon. After she said goodbye to the last person, she began to walk towards Sherlock. Luckily, Joan had great timing as she walked into the room interrupting them.

"Are you ready to go Sherlock?" Joan asked. He opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by Carmyn.

"Actually, I have to talk to him…alone." Her eyes darted from Joan to Sherlock.

"Oh, okay. I'll call a cab…Meet you outside." Joan left and Carmyn shut the door.

"Who is she? Your babysitter?" She smirked as she sat on the desk by the door.

He started to respond but she cut him off again.

"We should have coffee." She walked towards him and stopped a few inches from his body.

He breathed in her scent and almost gave in before he snapped out of it and backed away from her. He headed towards the door and put his hand on the handle. She grabbed his shoulder and Sherlock tensed up.

"What do you say?" She spoke in a seductive tone in his ear.

"Busy." He opened the door and half-sprinted to the exit. He ran through the doors and found Watson outside.

"You okay?" She was worried. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He faked a smile and jumped into the awaiting cab.

Joan got in the other side and found Sherlock talking to the cabbie. "You wanna talk about what's bothering you?" She asked when he had finished speaking to the cab driver.

"Nothing is bothering me." He gave a look that made her back off and then changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She smiled.

"Good." He smiled and directed his attention to the cabbie. "Please take us to Rye's Revenue."

"Fancy place. But…I don't think I'm dressed for a fancy restaurant..." She looked down at her comfort clothes and frowned.

"I think you look beautiful…" He replied softly. Joan looked over at him and found him staring out the window. She lightly put her hand on his sleeve and felt him tense up slightly.

"Thank you." She wanted him to look at her. She wanted him to kiss her. He just continued to stare out the window and refused to relax under her touch. She gave up and removed her hand and looked solemnly out the window at the glowing city dreaming about what would've happened if he just would've looked at her.

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	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock scampered down the stairs and into the kitchen with a spring in his step. A strange sight made him pause as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning." Joan turned away from the stove to smile at him.

"Morning…" He was surprised. She was never up this early and she most definitely had never cooked breakfast for him.

She turned back towards the stove, still smiling. She flipped the pancakes on the griddle and proceeded to scramble the eggs in the pan on the stove.

"Take a seat. The eggs will be done soon." She spoke with her back facing him. She glanced sideways as she heard him follow her directions and take a seat at the dining table.

He sat in one of the four seats and found that the table was made too. He still had a puzzled look on his face as she turned and scooped eggs onto his plate from the pan.

"How many?" She asked as she made her way back to the counter where the griddle was.

"What?" He asked, still puzzeled.

"Pancakes. How many?" She turned with a plate full of the fluffy cakes.

"Um…Two, please." He watched as she placed two on another plate near him and put two more on another plate across the table. She placed the rest of the pancakes in the middle of the table and retreated to the kitchen for butter and syrup. When she returned, Joan placed the toppings by the leftover pancakes and took her seat.

"Dig in." She smiled and started spreading butter on her pancakes.

They ate in silence for awhile before Sherlock finally gave in.

"Alright, I give up. What's this for?" He took another bite of his eggs and chewed as she replied.

"We haven't been able to find time to have a 'Welcome Home' dinner for you because of your anger-management classes and all the new cases needing your assistance, so…I decided a 'Welcome Home' breakfast should suffice." She half-smiled and took a bite of her last pancake.

"What about the dinner at Rye's Revenue?" He asked as he wiped his mouth clean.

"I thought that was a…" She trailed off as he raised his brows in question. "Nevermind." She stood and picked up his clean plate. She stacked it on hers and went to the sink to wash them off.

He took that as a sign to help so he started to clean off the table. He picked up all the dirty plates and took them to the sink where Joan was standing. He placed them in the sink and leaned back on the counter so he could speak face-to-face with her as she cleaned off the utensils.

"Date." He knew that was what she was going to say.

"What?" She almost dropped the plate she was cleaning in surprise.

"You thought it was a date." He explained as she kept her attention towards the plates. "And don't try to deny it either. Your silence and the way you're avoiding my gaze proves my hypothesis."

She placed the plate in the sink and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. "Yes. Okay? I _thought_ it was a date." She dried off her hands and picked her book up from the dining table before heading for the parlor. She took a seat on the couch as Sherlock entered the room.

"I thought it was too…" He took a seat across from her and dropped his gaze from hers.

"You did?" She looked up in surprise. She slowly got up from the couch and sat next to him. She could see him tense up as she did so.

He stared straight forward and tried to relax but couldn't knowing she was so close to him.

"Sherlock?" She asked softly. Joan was going to go for it. She was going to see where this relationship was headed and if it was strong enough to be called a 'romantic relationship'. All he needed to do was turn his head and she would plant one on him…

A loud ring broke the tension and Sherlock jumped up from the couch to investigate the sound. Joan leaned back and groaned in defeat.

"Watson!" He called from the hallway after some time.

She got up lazily and walked slowly to the hallway. "What is it?" She was sick and tired of their 'moments' being interrupted.

"Gregson texted. He needs our assistance..." He watched as she closed her eyes and frowned. "What is it?"

She shook her head and went to the coat hanger to retrieve her coat but Sherlock beat her there. He held it out for her and she slipped into it with his help. She headed for the door and exited before Sherlock could open the door for her. She continued to descend the steps to the street to hail a cab. She saw one coming and raised her hand hoping it would stop for her. It sped past and she groaned. Another one was heading towards her and she again tried to stop it; it sped past without slowing down.

"Here, I'll make them stop." Sherlock walked up behind her and raised his hand for a cab and readied the whistle in his mouth that he had fetched from his coat pocket.

"I can do it myself, Sherlock." She growled and stepped in front of him.

"I'm just trying to help…" He started.

"I don't need your help!" She screamed in frustration as another cab left her in the dust. She looked down the road and saw one last cab traveling her way. As it came closer, she stepped out in front of it and held her hand out yelling 'stop!'. The cab slowed but still was headed towards her at a dangerous speed.

"Joan!" Sherlock grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her out of the way of the cab as she tried prying herself out of his grasp.

"Let me go!" She yelled as she tried wiggling free. The cab squealed as it came to a stop in front of them. He released her and she turned to face him.

"What the hell Joan?!" He was angry; she could tell. "What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?!"

She spun around and yanked the cab door open. She got in and slammed it shut as Sherlock ran to the other side to get in.

The cab ride was quiet and tense. Joan was irritated and knew that she had overreacted but wouldn't admit it to _him_.

"What _was_ that?" Sherlock broke the silence. He had calmed down since the incident and was trying to understand why she had made such a scene. When she didn't answer, he looked over at her and saw that she was staring straight ahead with a vacant look in her eyes. "Joan…" He reached for her hand.

When she felt his hand grab hers, she looked up into his loving gaze. She felt herself calm down and when she believed she had control over her emotions, she answered.

"I'm sorry…I just…well, whenever I feel like we are having…" She looked down at their intertwined hands and continued, "a 'moment', I feel like you just blow me off…" She sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to 'romantic' stuff." He dropped his gaze and she squeezed his hand to show him it was okay. He looked back up into her eyes and smiled. "How about I make it up to you tomorrow night?"

"How so?" She asked as he let go of her hand and pulled out his phone.

"I'm going to make reservations for us at Tali's and then we can have a 'Welcome Home' date." He smiled and proceeded to call to make reservations. After he had had a short conversation with the man on the phone, he turned his attention back to her. "It's official. Dinner for two tomorrow night at Tali's." He smiled and took her hand in his again.

"Sounds nice." She smiled back and they held hands for the rest of the cab ride.

…

When they walked into the NYPD offices, they were greeted by Detective Bell.

"Where is Captain Gregson?" Sherlock asked before Bell could say anything.

"In his office." The dectective glanced at Joan in question and then back at Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed past Bell and pulled Joan with him. When they got to The Captain's office, they entered and Gregson stood up to greet them.

"Sherlock…What are you doing here?" The Captain looked at Joan and then at Sherlock like Bell had done.

"You texted us that you needed assistance." Sherlock replied, confused.

"I actually texted Joan…" He looked over to Joan and her mouth fell slightly open.

"But you meant both of us…right?" She asked quickly trying to make it sound less suspicious. She motioned for him to stop and change subjects. She stopped the motioning when Sherlock looked to her for answers.

Gregson was confused until he remembered that she had specifically told him to keep her interest in being a consulting detective a secret. "Oh…uh, yeah. I just thought you had a class today…"

Sherlock seemed to buy it and Joan was relieved. She did **_not_** want him to know.

"Joan, have you contacted your friend at the hospital yet about the chemicals?" Gregson asked.

"Oh, crap. No, I'll call her now." She went to the hallway to call her friend and left Sherlock with Gregson.

Sherlock decided to use this alone time to ask something he couldn't ask in front of Joan.

"Flirting with an anger-management student is illegal, is it not?" He asked as soon as Watson was preoccupied with her friend on the phone.

"What?" Gregson was taken aback. _What was he talking about?_

"My 'teacher' came on to me the other day…" Sherlock seemed really uncomfortable talking about whatever had happened.

"How so?" Gregson took a seat as Sherlock glanced out at Joan to make sure she was still on the phone.

"She was being very clingy and seductive…I read somewhere that professionals are not allowed to involve themselves with clients of that sort." Sherlock sat on Gregsons desk as he talked.

"Well yes…It could get her fired but not put in _jail_, Sherlock." Gregson leaned forward.

"Perfect. I can't keep going to these stupid meetings with dread about seeing her. I need a new teacher. Can you help?" Sherlock was desperate. He didn't like this woman; she was trouble.

"I can give you a wire and set some cameras up but that's it." Gregson knew that he could do nothing more seeing as this wasn't a live-or-die situation.

"That's all I need. Thank you." Sherlock was pleased and relieved.

"One more thing Sherlock, this illegal client relationship you read about…" He started.

"Yes?" Sherlock wasn't sure where this was going.

"Isn't what you and Joan have breaking that law?"

Sherlock was about to answer when Joan interrupted.

"My friend can test them right away." She smiled. She noticed something strange in the room; almost like there was tension between them. "Everything okay?" She looked from Gregson to Sherlock.

"Whenever is it not, Watson?" He got up and left the room in a hurry.

Joan turned to Gregson for an explanation but he had returned to his work and wouldn't look up at her. Something was definitely going on.

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	12. Chapter 12

"I have an evening meeting tonight so I'll meet you at the restaurant, okay?" Sherlock had called Joan very early in the morning and she was trying to keep herself awake as he talked.

"Why'd you call me? You could've just come upstairs." She replied groggily.

"I left about an hour ago." He replied.

Joan rolled over and looked at the clock. 4am.

"Where did you go?" She sat up to try and stay awake.

"I had to run an errand. So we're still on for tonight?" He asked loudly. He was trying to keep her awake long enough for her to remember the conversation.

"Yeah. What time should I meet you there?" Joan covered her mouth as she yawned.

"Our reservation is for 7pm. Don't be late." He smiled even though she couldn't see him.

"I won't. See you then." She laid back down and was about to hit the button to end the call when she heard him add something. "What?"

"I said, get some sleep. See you tonight." He ended the call when she didn't respond. He guessed that she probably had fallen back asleep.

He was right.

…

Sherlock walked along the dark streets and up to an old apartment building. He hit the button and almost immediately was buzzed in. He opened the entrance door to the building and closed it tightly behind him. He traveled up the 2 floors it took to get to Alistair's apartment and knocked loudly on the door.

The man opened the door and greeted his friend. "Sherlock, what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I need to talk. May I come in?" The man nodded and Sherlock disappeared behind his door.

"This must be urgent seeing as it is…what? 4am?" He glanced at the clock and took a seat in his kitchen. Sherlock joined him.

"I need to know if you know a woman by the name of Carmyn Leane." Sherlock leaned forward in his chair anticipating his friend's answer.

"Can't say I do. Who is she?" Alistair stood and headed to the stove to make tea.

"My anger-management 'teacher'…" Sherlock watched as Alistair heated the kettle on the stove.

"And?" Alistair turned to face him.

"She came on to me and I…kind-of liked it. But…" Sherlock rubbed his hands together nervously.

"But what?" Alistair crossed his arms as he eyed Sherlock suspiciously.

"But…I like someone else." Sherlock looked up and found that Alistair was smiling. "What?"

"I knew it. I knew you and Joan were perfect together." Alistair smiled as he noticed Sherlock blushing. The kettle whistled and he readied the tea.

"That's why I need your help. I need you to find me another anger-management teacher that is qualified." Sherlock accepted the tea as Alistair came back with two cups.

"Why me?" Alistair took a sip of his tea.

"I can't let Joan know what I'm doing and I can't ask Gregson for anymore favors…I need you to find me one because I know you are in contact with many qualified teachers from the bookstore." Sherlock sipped his tea as he watched Alistair consider everything.

"I know one and I might be able to convince him to take over your class…" Alistair leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea.

"Great. Thank you." Sherlock stood up and put his cup and saucer in Alistair's sink.

"When does he need to be able to start?" Alistair spoke before Sherlock left the apartment.

"Tomorrow. Thank you Alistair, I can always count on you." Sherlock nodded goodbye and left the apartment.

…

Joan had woken up at 7am and was sitting in the parlor reading when Captain Gregson texted that he was outside. Joan walked to the door and let him in.

"Hi, Joan. I was just thinking that since it's my day off today, we could get some training in." He smiled as he removed his coat and hung it up.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I have nothing to do today." She smiled back and began to feel excited. She was finally going to be able to learn some new things about being a detective.

Gregson looked up the stairs and back at her. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He had an errand to run. I don't know what it is but he's been gone since 3am." Joan motioned for him to follow and they traveled to the parlor. "Where should we start?" She smiled.

"How about I teach you what to look for in a crime scene and then once you get the hang of that, I'll take you out for lunch." He smiled.

"Sure." She smiled and he began to teach.

…

Joan had been working with Captain Gregson for the whole morning and he had stayed true to his promise and taken her out for lunch. Now, she was relaxing for a few hours before her big date with Sherlock. It was 5pm and Sherlock had been gone all day doing who-knows-what. Now he was in his meeting and she was counting down the minutes until she would be able to see him.

She looked up at the clock and knew she should start to get ready so she had enough time to get to the restaurant on time. She went upstairs and began with a shower. After she was clean, she blow-dried her hair and curled it. She ran to her room in her robe and slipped into a strap-less dark ruby dress that stopped just above her knees. She went back to the bathroom and began to apply her makeup. Lastly, she got into her black stilettos and departed the brownstone at 6:30pm, headed for Tali's.

…

Sherlock shook his leg impatiently as he watched the clock and tuned Carmyn out. An hour before the class started, Captain Gregson had placed cameras around the room and hooked Sherlock up with a wire. They were ready to put the plan into motion as soon as she dismissed class. All Carmyn had to do was be her slutty self and she would be fired for flirting with a client.

"That's all for today. See you all on Monday!" Carmyn dismissed the class and immediately turned her attention towards Sherlock.

Sherlock stood and started walking towards her.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes." She grinned.

"Call me Sherlock." He smiled.

…

7:15pm.

Joan had been sitting at the table for 15 minutes and was beginning to get anxious.

She checked her watch and watched the entrance hoping that he would waltz in like his usual self and join her.

_He's probably just stuck in traffic… _

…

"So Sherlock, have you considered my offer?" She winked.

"For coffee? Well, it's a little late for coffee…" He sat on the desk and smiled.

"Then how about dessert?" She walked up to him and stopped a few inches from his face.

"What did you have in mind?" He looked down at her lips and then back into her eyes.

She smiled deviously.

…

7:41pm

Joan looked at her watch again and when she looked up, a waitress was in front of her.

"Are you ready to order now?" She sounded a little annoyed.

"My date still isn't here." Joan replied as she pointed to the empty seat across the table.

"Well, your reservation was for seven and it's almost eight and you haven't ordered anything…I'm going to have to make you leave in a few minutes if he doesn't show up. We have more people waiting for tables." The waitress gave an apologetic smile as she noticed Joan get a sad look on her face.

Joan got up from the table and apologized. "I'm sorry that I hoarded the table. I'll be going now." She headed for the exit, getting angrier with every step.

_I'm going to kill him._

…

"Where's your babysitter?" Carmyn asked with a devious smile on her face.

"She's occupied at the moment." Sherlock stood and looked deep into her piercing blue eyes.

"Good." She leaned in closer.

…

Joan got out of the cab and walked to the entrance to the community center. She decided to stop by and see if Sherlock was held up in a meeting or if anyone knew where he was. She entered and heard voices coming from the room around the corner. The ex-surgeon headed towards them quietly and was shocked when she looked in.

Sherlock was up against the wall with Carmyn…lips-locked.

She was going to alert them to her presence but decided against it when she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her throat tightened and she had to leave before she started to sob. She ran down the hallway away from the heart-breaking sight into the rain outside. Her cab was still there but she decided to walk home in the pouring rain.

…

Sherlock pulled away and smiled smugly.

"What?" She asked suspiciously as he continued to smile at her.

"Say goodbye to your job." He pushed her away and went for the door.

"What are you talking about?" She called after him. "Sherlock?" Sherlock continued to walk away. "Sherlock!" He never turned back.

He pulled the wire off of his chest and tucked it in his pocket. He smiled to himself as he thought about never seeing Carmyn ever again. He casually glanced at his watch and did a double-take.

"Shit…" He cussed and stopped his tracks. He was supposed to meet Joan an hour ago…

He ran out the door and tried hailing a cab. A cab skidded to a stop and he jumped in, told him where to go and the cabbie hit the gas. In 10 minutes, the cab stopped in front of Tali's. Sherlock paid the driver and jumped out in a hurry. He burst into the restaurant and when he didn't see Joan, asked the host if he had seen her.

"I'm here for the 7pm reservation…Is she still here?" He continued to look around the restaurant desperately searching for her.

"That was an hour ago, sir. The lady left about twenty minutes ago…" The host moved on to another person behind Sherlock.

Sherlock's heart dropped. She was going to kill him.

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	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock opened the door to the brownstone quietly; he knew a war was waiting for him inside. Little did he know how big of a war was upon him…

He stepped inside and closed the door without a sound. When he stepped into the parlor, he noticed that all the lights were off and not a creature was stirring. He removed his scarf and placed it on the back of the couch. He cautiously made his way to the kitchen, not knowing what was awaiting him. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. Nobody was there.

"Phew." He sighed and wiped his forehead. He wouldn't have to deal with this until tomorrow. He crept up the stairs and poked his head into Joan's room expecting to find her up and waiting for him; instead he found her in her bed, sleeping. He snuck down the hallway and into his room without so much as a creak in the floorboards. He shut his door and got into his bed; tomorrow was going to be hell.

…

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. 6am.

He got up without a sound, crept by Joan's room, tip-toed down the stairs, and shuffled into the kitchen to begin making breakfast. He decided that he was going to skip cereal and make a real breakfast for the both of them.

He had been cooking breakfast for fifteen minutes before he heard footsteps upstairs; Joan was awake. Sherlock took a deep breath and straightened the dishes on the table. He quickly put the pancakes and omelets in the middle of the table. He turned to face her as she walked into the kitchen.

"Morning, Watson." He smiled.

She took one look at the table and shook her head. Joan turned and walked into the hallway to fetch her sneakers and sweat-shirt. Sherlock followed like a lost puppy as she ran back upstairs to comb her hair.

"I made breakfast for you. I thought we could eat together." He smiled as he admired her while she was combing her hair.

"No thanks." She put the comb down and rushed past without looking at him. He continued to follow her to the fridge. She opened it and grabbed a water bottle for her jog. Joan slammed it shut and made her way to the door, stopping to grab her iPod first. "I'm going for a jog. I'll be back in two hours. Be ready for a drug-test when I get back."

"Watson…You have to understand, about last night…" Sherlock had given up on trying to act like nothing happened and wanted to talk about it.

"I don't want to hear it." She flipped her hair and stormed out the door, slamming it in the process.

Sherlock balled his hands into fists in anger; not at her but himself. He looked over to where Clyde was crawling in his tank on the mantel and spoke.

"Shut up. I know I messed up." He watched the turtle crawl across the tank for a moment and Sherlock slowly returned to the kitchen to eat. He wasn't going to let the breakfast go to waste.

…

Joan ran faster and faster trying to get Sherlock off her mind. She wiped her eyes and scolded herself for even caring about that jerk. She rounded a corner and almost smacked into Gregson.

"Toby! I'm sorry…" She pulled the headphones off and stopped her music.

"It's okay…" He noticed her eyes were red and puffy, "Joan, are you alright?"

She wiped her eyes. "Yeah…"

"You can't fool me, I know something's wrong." He placed a hand on her back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She nodded and they walked into the Corner Café. They ordered two lattés and took a seat by the window.

"Okay, so what's wrong?" He watched as she took a sip of her latté. He had never noticed how beautiful she was….

"Sherlock."

"What did he do now?" Gregson knew Sherlock had done a lot of things but to make Watson this mad? What could he have done?

"Well first, he stood me up for our date and when I went to find him, I found him lips-locked, with another girl." A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard to keep it down.

"Another girl? I didn't know he even _had_ another girl in his life." Gregson frowned as he watched Joan fight back tears.

"His anger-management teacher." Her voice cracked as the lump came back and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

Gregson's mouth fell open. He closed it before she saw. He remembered Sherlock's plan to capture his teacher's illegal behavior on tape and was about to tell her but he thought that Sherlock should be the one to explain what had happened.

"What?" Joan had noticed his silence and was staring at him intently.

"I…" He glanced down at the table and back into her eyes.

"What is it, Toby?" She placed her hand on his and looked into his eyes with a concerned look.

"I think…" He looked down at her hand on his and thought about how easy it would be to make her his. He considered confessing his love for her right then and there but knew that if they ever did have a relationship, she would never forget Sherlock. Sherlock would always have a special place in her heart and he knew he couldn't compete with that. "I think…you should talk to him."

She looked shocked. "After what he did to me?"

"You need to at least hear him out…Trust me." He looked down at her hand again. "Go on…He's waiting." He forced a smile as he let her go.

She smiled lightly. "Thank you, Toby. For everything." She got up, walked over to his seat, leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheekbone.

His smile disappeared as she left the café and ran towards the brownstone. He looked down at his hands and sighed.

"Is this seat taken?" A woman's voice interrupted his sulking.

"Huh? Oh, no." He got up and let her have the table.

"Oh, you're leaving?" She asked in a disappointed tone as he turned to leave.

"I thought you wanted the table…" He looked into her hazel eyes.

"I did…but I thought we could talk…" She looked down at her feet in embarrassment.

He smiled. "Sure." He pulled the seat out for her and she sat. He took a seat across from her and admired her. She was his age, a little shorter, and had beautiful hazel eyes matching her gorgeous wavy hair.

"My name's Cathy." She held out her hand and smiled.

"Toby." He shook her hand lightly and smiled back.

…

Joan entered the brownstone with the same attitude as before.

"Sherlock?" She called out.

He half-ran into the hallway at the mention of his name. "Watson! You're home." He smiled.

"You've got five minutes to explain yourself." She pushed past him and sat on the couch.

Sherlock followed her and sat next to her. She scooted over and his heart grew heavy.

"Start." She looked up at the clock and made note of where the minute hand was.

"I'm extremely sorry that I stood you up last night. I didn't realize what time it was…My meeting went a half an hour late and I had to talk to Carmyn about something…" He paused, carefully thinking his words through.

"About what?" She interrupted his thought.

"I had to speak to her about a lesson she taught us…" He lied.

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms. She looked up at the clock and stood up. She headed for the stairs in a fury.

Sherlock grabbed her arm and turned her around, his hand never letting go of hers. "Joan."

She ripped her hand from his and headed for the stairs again. Sherlock looked at the end-table and grabbed the handcuffs before following her to the stairs.

"I still have two minutes left, Joan." He protested as she climbed the stairs.

"Well I'm sick of hearing your bullshit." She continued to climb the stairs as he stood at the foot of the stairs.

"What?" He had explained everything…well, almost everything.

She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around. "You haven't told me everything and you know it!"

He ascended the stairs and stopped in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

"When were you going to explain to me the part about making out with your teacher?!" She screamed.

Sherlock froze. "How…?" He began.

"I walked in on you two...going at it!" She felt her anger rising.

"Joan, I…" He started.

"Don't even! I don't want to hear it!" The ex-surgeon was boiling. She felt like she was going to explode. She turned and began to stomp to her room but he grabbed her by her wrist.

He put one of the handcuff rings around her wrist and the other on the railing.

"There. Now you _have_ to listen to me." He smiled jokingly. He stepped up onto the stair she was on and faced her.

Joan was up against the railing and had her hands behind her back. She reached into her pocket with the hand that wasn't restrained and fished a paperclip out. She went to work on the lock as he talked.

"I was trying to get her fired by making her come on to me. I didn't think she would kiss me but it kind-of helped the situation…" He explained.

Joan shot him a disgusted glare as she continued to work on the lock.

"It's going to get her fired and I never have to see her again." He looked into her eyes desperately looking for the spark that used to be present.

"You're trying to tell me _she_ came on to _you_?" Joan didn't believe him. She felt the handcuffs release as she finally unlocked them.

"She did. I swear."

"Well I don't believe you." She walked up the stairs and looked back at his confused expression. "Oh, and I learned to pick locks." She smirked as she turned, entered her room, and slammed the door behind her.

Sherlock slumped against the wall. "She's never going to forgive me."

…

Joan flopped down on her bed and let the tears flow. She wanted to forgive him but he had cheated on her…

_No. He hadn't cheated…They weren't even a couple! He is my client…nothing else._

She sat up and looked at the window. It was dark outside and the stars were out. She sighed and walked to the window to sit on the sill. She looked up at the stars and began to think.

…

Sherlock had fallen asleep on the couch a few hours after the huge fight. He woke and looked at the time. It was noon. He had slept for over 9 hours!

He shot up from the couch and ran up the stairs. He passed Joan's room and had to back-track when he noticed the door open. He looked inside and found an empty room; Joan's belongings were gone.

"Watson?" He paced the empty room looking for any sign of her presence. "Watson! This is no time for games!" He looked at her nightstand and found a note. He picked it up and read it top to bottom, twice.

It read:

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I took up a new client after our fight yesterday…I started with her this morning and I thought you deserved to know. My time working with you was interesting… I know that it's cowardly to leave without alerting you but I just couldn't face you… I'm sorry for what happened but all you can be to me is a client… Goodbye, Sherlock._

_Joan Watson_

Sherlock dropped the note and sat on the bed in shock. He looked down at the floor at the note and felt an emptiness in his heart. A lone tear rolled down his cheek and landed on his pants.

She was gone.

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	14. Chapter 14

"Sherlock, where's Joan?" Gregson asked as Sherlock stepped out of the elevator on the 5th floor of the NYPD alone.

"Gone." Sherlock rushed by Gregson and headed for Detective Bell's desk.

"What do you mean by 'gone'?" Captain Gregson was following close behind as Sherlock made his way through the maze of NYPD officers' desks.

"Gone gone. She's never coming back." Sherlock found Bell's desk empty so he took a seat in a chair to wait for him to come back.

"Why?" Gregson sat in another chair by Sherlock and pushed for more information.

Sherlock looked him square in the eye. "I broke her heart and she quit. She now has a new client to take care of and wants to forget about me entirely." Sherlock looked back towards the empty desk and frowned. "Where is Bell?" He asked anxiously.

Captain Gregson ignored Sherlock's question and answered with one of his own. "What do you mean she _quit_?"

"She left before I woke. She packed a bag with all her stuff and left a note telling me that she left for a different client." He replied in a monotone. Sherlock had to force himself not to get emotional in front of Gregson.

Gregson noted Sherlock's behavior. He was genuinely upset.

"Do you know who this new client is?" Captain Gregson didn't want Sherlock doing anything he might regret…especially since he was still fresh out of jail.

"No. But I'll find out once Detective Bell returns to his desk." Sherlock fidgeted in his seat as he looked at his watch. "Where _is_ he?"

"Sherlock…I don't think you should track her down. She left for a reason…" His voice died in his throat as Sherlock glared at him. He looked insane.

"I need her." Sherlock stared forward and refused to look at Gregson.

"You don't _need_ her. You _want_ her." Gregson countered.

Sherlock turned to glare at him once more.

"Sherlock…I think it's time you let her go." Gregson tried to be gentle with the comment but he knew it must've hurt him to hear it.

"I can't." Sherlock continued to stare straight forward with a serious look on his face.

"Sherlock…" Gregson tried to place his hand on Sherlock's shoulder but the consultant jumped up in anger.

"I CAN'T!" He screamed. "I JUST CAN'T!" Sherlock saw Detective Bell heading their way and began to walk towards him.

Gregson grabbed the consultants shoulder. "Why?"

Sherlock shook Gregson's hand off and turned to face him with an anger he hadn't experienced since Irene died. "I need her." He glowered.

"Sherlock. You need to let her go. She's moved on and so should you." Gregson had to rip the band aid off and quit sugar-coating it; Joan was gone.

"No! I need her! I love…" He stopped mid-sentence as Gregson arched his brow. Sherlock's mouth remained open and he didn't know what to say next without revealing anything else.

Gregson remained silent. He analyzed Sherlock's facial expression; the confusion, the embarrassment, the hurt.

Sherlock broke the silence by turning around as Bell returned to his desk. "Bell, nice of you to show up." He hadn't meant for it to sound as bad as it did but he couldn't help himself; he was pissed.

"Nice to see you too." Detective Bell sat behind his desk and logged on to his computer. "Now, what do you want?"

"How do you know I want something?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"The only time you come to see me is when you want something that Captain Gregson won't help you with." Bell looked at Gregson and then back to Sherlock. "Am I right?"

"Not entirely. I need you to track a phone number for me." Sherlock got right to the point; he knew it was useless to argue with Bell's statement.

Bell looked to Gregson for an answer to whether he should follow Sherlock's orders or not.

Sherlock noticed this and turned to Gregson. "Please." Sherlock pleaded desperately; not faking, but genuine desperation.

Gregson nodded to Bell. Bell nodded back and turned his attention back to Sherlock.

"What's the number?" Bell readied himself to start typing the number into his computer.

"1-212-888-0822." Sherlock stated from memory.

"Lemme guess…Watson?" Bell had finished typing the number and had hit enter on the keyboard.

"How'd you know?" Sherlock asked in surprise.

Bell laughed and didn't answer the question. "Last signal came from a building in Manhattan."

"Address?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"2084 Lincoln St. Manhattan, NY." Bell opened the drawer in his desk for a pen and paper so Sherlock could write it down but the consulting detective had already turned to leave. "Don't you need to write it down?" He waved the paper at the consultant's back, expecting him to turn around.

"I got it." He pointed to his head, "In here." He never turned around to face Bell but instead, headed for the elevator.

…

Joan had just finished unpacking her belongings into a guest room in her new client's house. This client was easier to take care of then…_him_…She never had temper tantrums, she never touched Joan's personal items, and best of all, there was no chance of them falling in…well you know…

"Ms. Joan, is it alright if I make spaghetti tonight?"

Joan turned to find her new client, Serena, standing in the doorway. Serena was a little taller than Joan but not by much and she had beautiful golden hair that fell perfectly over her shoulders. She had deep brown eyes like Joan did but not as dark as the ex-surgeon. To anyone on the streets, Serena wouldn't look like an alcoholic drug-addict; she was much too clean and proper.

"Yes. That's alright." The ex-surgeon smiled warmly. "I love spaghetti."

Serena smiled and left the doorway to prep their meal.

Joan turned her attention to her suit-case and was about to zip it up when she noticed one more thing at the bottom. She picked it up and smiled. It was the spatula Sherlock had bought her after porn-stars in her apartment had defiled her other one. She thought about that day with him and began to feel empty.

"Ms. Joan, are you alright?" Serena had returned to the room to ask if she could go to the store and fetch some spaghetti noodles for their meal and found Joan on the edge of tears.

"Yeah." Joan wiped her eyes as she turned her back to place the spatula back in the suit-case. She zippered it up and placed it in the closet. She must separate herself from anything that reminded her of the man who broke her heart.

…

As Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket in the back of the cab, he began to get second thoughts.

_What if I go there and she resents me for doing so? What if Gregson was right? Do I need to let her go? No…I can't live without her…_

He decided that he would sleep on it and give her more time to heal. Instead of telling the cabbie to go to her client's address, he gave him the address of an expensive jewelry store.

…

Joan walked into the kitchen and her face lit up. On the table was a deliciously looking pan of spaghetti with garlic bread and cheesy bread on the side. Serena was still cooking the meatballs and turned to smile as Joan entered.

"This looks amazing!" Joan was still drooling over the sight of the meal.

"Well, sit down then! The meatballs are done and I'll get the parmesan cheese from the cabinet so we can eat!" She drained the water from the meatballs and dumped them in a bowl. She opened the top cupboard and grabbed the bottle of parmesan cheese. She walked to the table and set everything down as Joan took a seat.

"It smells really good." Joan inhaled and closed her eyes. _YUM!_

Serena took the seat across from her new sober-companion and smiled. "Go on, taste it."

Joan took a bite and it was like heaven in her mouth. "Oh my gosh, this is delicious!" She took another bite.

Serena smiled and took a bite. "Good. I cook a lot so we'll be eating like this for the whole time you're here."

"Wow, my old client never…" She trailed off. She couldn't finish; she was supposed to be moving on.

"He was really special to you." Serena observed.

Joan looked up at her in confusion. "How did you know it was a he?"

"You wouldn't be broken up about a woman, Joan." She laughed. "Was he your client?"

"Yeah. I don't know why I can't forget about him." She sighed and set down her fork so she could rest her head on her hand.

"You love him."

Joan looked up at her and blushed. "What? No…no." She looked down at the spaghetti and began to twirl her fork around in the noodles.

"You aren't good at hiding things, Joan. I can see that I'm right." She smiled as Joan looked up.

Joan smiled back. "I do…_love_ him but…I still need time to forgive him."

"Understandable." Serena replied. They both knew it was time to drop it so they switched the subject and enjoyed the rest of their dinner.

…

Toby was sitting at the small table for two waiting for her when his phone went off.

He glanced down at it and it ended up being a text from Sherlock.

It read:

**Decd 2 tk ur advc. Jst 2 lt u knw.**

_Joan was right…He did text like a teenager on a sugar-high._

"So he decided to take my advice…" He smiled to himself as if it were an accomplishment.

"Toby." Cathy smiled as he jumped in surprise.

"Cathy." He smiled and stood to give her a kiss on the cheek. He pulled her chair out for her and she sat down. He took a seat in his chair and admired how beautiful she looked.

"I'm glad you called. I was beginning to think that I had scared you off." She laughed and put her hair behind her ears.

"No, I've just been busy with a new case. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner." He waved down the waiter and he came over with a poster-smile on his face.

"Ready for drinks?" The waiter asked in a fake enthusiastic tone.

Gregson looked to Cathy. "I think we are."

They ordered their drinks and they came immediately.

"To our first date." Gregson raised his drink up to toast.

"To our first date." She repeated as she clinked her glass against his and toasted to their wonderful night.

**_ THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW AND FAVORITE!_**

**_CLICK NEXT TO CONTINUE READING THE SERIES_**


	15. Chapter 15

"Serena! I'm going for a run so I won't be back for an hour. Are you going to be alright while I'm gone?" Joan called out from her client's living room whilst tying her sneakers.

"I'll be fine! Have fun on your jog!" Serena called back from the kitchen. Joan walked into the kitchen and found Serena bent over the counter reading a cook-book.

"Whatcha doing?" Joan walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder.

"Planning dinner. I want to try and making something new for tonight." Serena turned and looked at Joan. "How does roasted rack of lamb sound?"

"Delicious." Joan smiled and Serena turned back to the cook-book to study the recipe. "See you in an hour."

Joan left the kitchen and headed for the door. She stopped to grab her jacket with her iPod in the pocket and left the residence.

…

Sherlock woke up on the couch for the second day in a row. He rolled off the couch theatrically and made his way to the kitchen in the same manner. The silence in the Brownstone was eerie and he wasn't used to being alone; he hadn't been alone for quite some time now. Usually there had always been someone there with him to keep him company and keep him out of trouble. Now there was nobody. He was completely alone and he didn't like it one bit.

He entered the kitchen and went to the cabinet to fetch his usual breakfast; cereal with almost-past-its-expiration-date milk. He went to the fridge to get the milk but alas, there was none.

_Grrr. Now I have to get dressed and go to the store. Sighhh…Screw it, that's too much work._

He put the cereal box back and looked in the fridge for eggs. No eggs. Bacon? No bacon.

Sherlock sighed and went to the parlor. He found a crumpled up shirt on the floor, sniffed it, and shrugged; it smelt fine. He stripped off the shirt he slept in and put the other shirt on. He looked down at his pants and sighed.

"Whatever. It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone…" He ran to the kitchen and found his shoes. He put them on and dressed himself in his black winter coat with high pockets. He draped the scarf over his neck and with that; he was ready to brave the cold New York air.

Sherlock hailed a cab and as he settled into the back of the cab, his hand casually brushed against his coat-pocket; he felt something odd. Confused, he stuck his hand into his pocket and retrieved the item. It was a necklace box wrapped in red wrapping paper with hearts all over it. Then he remembered; it was the heart necklace he had gotten Joan. It was 14k gold with a real diamond in the middle and a beautiful gold chain to match. The thought of the pendant made him smile. He knew then and there where he should really be going.

"I'd like to change my destination…" He spoke to the cabbie as he continued to remember who his purchase was for and what it looked like.

"It's going to cost you extra, buddy." The cabbie replied in a scratchy voice.

_He is definitely a smoker…_

"That's not a problem." Sherlock looked up at the man staring back at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Where to then?" The cabbie pulled over and erased Sherlock's previous address from his cab's GPS.

"2084 Lincoln St. Manhattan, NY."

The cabbie entered the address and began to follow the route to Joan's new client's home.

_I hope I'm doing the right thing…Now I kind-of wish I would've dressed better…_

…

Serena was alerted by the stove that her experimental roasted lamb dish was done and ran to retrieve it before it burned. She put the oven mitt on and opened the stove to get it. She picked it out of the oven and had placed it on the stove-top to cool when the doorbell rang. She removed the oven mitt and tossed it on the counter as she ran to get the door. She opened the door cautiously and peeked out.

"Yes?" She asked the man standing on her doorstep.

"Is Ms. Joan Watson available?" Sherlock asked the attractive woman in front of him.

"She went out for a jog…" Serena trailed off as she realized who he must be.

"Ah, I should've realized that it was that time of the day. How silly of me…I'm sorry to have bothered you." He started to retreat to the sidewalk but stopped when she spoke.

"You're Sherlock, right?" Serena smiled and he stepped back up on the doorstep.

"Yes, how did you know?" He knew that Joan wouldn't have showed a photo of him to her new client so, how did this woman know who he was?

"I guessed…or you might say I _deduced_ it." She smiled and opened the door fully. "Would you like to come in? Ms. Watson should be back soon."

"Yes, thank you." Sherlock stepped inside and removed his scarf.

"I'll take that for you." She reached out for the scarf and placed it on her coat-hook. "Would you like to remove your coat?"

Sherlock remembered the crumpled shirt that he was wearing and denied the offer. "No, I'm fine."

Serena shrugged and led him to the kitchen. "I just tried making roasted rack of lamb…emphasis on _tried_…" She laughed. "Would you like to try some?"

He nodded and she readied a plate for him. She motioned for him to sit at the table and placed the experimental meal in front of him. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." He dug in and was surprised. It was delicious.

"How is it?" She placed the kettle on the stove and faced him.

"Delightful! You're an amazing cook." He continued eating and watched as she prepared tea for two.

"Thank you." A smile appeared on her lips and she placed a mug filled with herbal tea in front of him.

He smiled and took a sip while she sat across from him.

"So Joan got her tea habit from you, I'm guessing?" Serena laughed lightly and Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're probably right." He laughed again at the thought. He took another bite of his lamb and closed his eyes so he could get the full effect of the flavor.

"She loves you, you know…" Serena stated while she twisted the mug on the table nervously.

Sherlock choked on the lamb and started to cough in surprise. "Wha-at?"

"I can tell that ever since she got here, she hasn't been able to forget about you…" Serena met his gaze and could see his eyes were full of hope at the comment.

"Really?" He leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He looked at the stove and began to get lost in thought until they both became aware of the front door opening.

"Serena, I'm home! It's standard procedure that I have to give you a drug test…" She had been making her way to the kitchen and trailed off at the sight of Sherlock.

Sherlock stood and Serena looked back and forth between them nervously.

Joan snapped her gaze away from the consulting detective standing in Serena's kitchen and looked at her client.

"What is he doing here?" She was angry but her tone didn't show it. She was trying to contain herself so Sherlock couldn't read that she was slightly happy to see him but also angry that he had tracked her down.

"He came to the door and he seemed nice…so I let him in. He said he knew you…" Serena stumbled with her words and shifted in her chair.

"It's not her fault…I shouldn't have come in." Sherlock tried to take the blame off Serena but Joan didn't want to hear it.

"Sherlock. Boundaries. I left you and now I live here with my new client. You need to leave." Joan stood her ground no matter how much it hurt.

"Ms. Watson…" Serena tried to protest but Joan shut her down.

"Serena, please. I can't believe you let him in here! He could've been anyone claiming to know me!" She came fully into the kitchen and took a seat by her client.

"Joan. Please. You need to at least talk to me." Sherlock came closer to her and she stood up before he could come nearer.

"I think you need to talk to him…" Serena agreed. Joan turned and gave her a scolding look.

"I gave you five minutes to explain it and you lied directly to my face. Why should I listen to anything you say? How can I even believe anything you tell me anymore?" She placed a hand on her hip and glared at him.

"Correction. You gave me three minutes and five seconds before you went off. I didn't get to fully explain the situation." Sherlock stated as Joan deepened her glare.

"You fucking lied to me, Sherlock! I couldn't listen anymore if you were going to tell me bullshit lies!" Joan growled as she advanced towards him in a hostile manner.

Sherlock stumbled backwards expecting to be smacked. "I didn't want to break your heart, Joan. I was going to show you the tapes at the precinct in the morning and show you I got her fired. I didn't like the way she was coming on to me so strongly and I decided to take matters into my own hands to get her fired. I wanted her far away from me because I…I…" He couldn't finish with Serena staring at him like he was a crazed lunatic.

Joan noticed him eying her and waved her away. "You what?" She asked when Serena had exited the kitchen and went to her room.

"I…I think I…" He paused. He couldn't say it.

"What?!" She screamed. She was getting angrier and just wanted him to leave before she let her guard down and gave in to his apology. She needed to be strong.

"I think…I love you." He spluttered in embarrassment. He looked down at his shoes and Joan could've sworn he was blushing.

"What?" Joan softened her tone and walked toward him.

"I…love you…I didn't think I could love again after Irene but…then I met you." He looked up and Joan saw his face was extremely red in embarrassment.

Joan felt herself start to blush too and tried to hide it. She looked down at her feet and her hand played with her skirt nervously. Her head shot up quickly as she noticed him coming closer.

"I'm truly sorry for all that I've done…I never wanted to break your heart, Joan." He looked lovingly into her eyes.

Her breathing hitched in her throat as he leaned in closer to kiss her. She leaned in too but before their lips touched, Joan turned her head to avoid his lips and stepped backwards. She looked down to avoid her ex-clients saddened expression and forced herself to stay strong and not start crying.

"I'm sorry…The scars are _too_ deep." Her voice cracked with the on-coming tears and she looked up into his grey eyes. Once their eyes met, she immediately regretted looking up. He looked like his heart had been ripped from his chest. The pain in his eyes was so overwhelming that she had to look away to keep herself from giving in.

"Alright then…" He sighed. "I think it's time I leave." He started to exit but stopped in front of her. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart…I guess now…" Sherlock swallowed to keep himself from crying, "we're even." He rushed past her and felt the necklace box in his pocket. He placed it on the small table by the door and felt himself start to tear up. He then swiftly exited the apartment and hailed a cab to take him home. Joan felt a tear roll down her cheek, then another, and then another. She looked over her shoulder at the door and saw the vibrant red necklace box on the table. Her interest peaked and she made her way to the table where her present lay. She wiped her eyes and looked down at the little red package with cute little hearts scattered all over. Joan picked it up tenderly and removed the wrapping. She opened the box and gasped.

_It was gorgeous. _

She picked the golden heart necklace up gently and placed it in her palm. She made her way to her room and went to the mirror. The ex-surgeon looked at her puffy red eyes in the mirror and then down at the beautiful necklace in her palm. She leaned in towards the mirror and clasped the necklace around her neck. She leaned back and the mere sight of the heart made the tears start flow down her face.

He had given her his heart.

_**THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW AND FAVORITE!**_


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock slammed the door to the brownstone behind him and felt the stinging of on-coming tears in his eyes. He ripped his scarf off and tossed it on the floor in the hallway along with his coat and shoes. He walked into the kitchen and felt rage within.

_Why did I have to be so stupid?! She could've been mine if I wouldn't have let that little strumpet Carmyn ruin everything! _

Sherlock yanked the cupboard door open and scanned the mugs, not knowing what he was looking for. He picked one up and slammed the cupboard door shut. He balled his fist and threw the mug across the room, where it shattered against the wall and pieces fell to the floor. He walked across the room to the wall and looked down at the shattered pieces of the mug.

_Now it's broken…just like my heart._

He stomped on the broken pieces and felt them break even more beneath his feet. He looked down at his fists and noticed how white his knuckles were. He unclenched his fists and looked down at the broken mug. He let out a breath and kneeled down to pick up the pieces. He picked them up and went to the garbage to throw them away. Once the pieces were dropped into the garbage bin, he stopped to stare at them and felt a tear roll down his cheek.

_That's all _I_ am…garbage. I'm a drug addict…who on earth would love me?_

…

Gregson was in his office studying old interrogations when he looked up and saw Sherlock making his way over. Gregson stood and went to meet him half way.

"Captain." Sherlock spoke before Gregson could greet him.

"Sherlock. What are you doing here?" Gregson stuffed his hands in his pockets and observed Sherlock's behavior. There were dark circles around his eyes and a vacant look on his face. He wasn't the _focused_ Sherlock who got everything right about the cases they were working on together; he was the _drug addict_ Sherlock. The consultant clearly hadn't slept for days and he was an absolute wreck.

"I can't be alone. I need to dive into some work…please tell me you need my assistance on a case." Sherlock begged. He didn't want to go back to the brownstone; he couldn't trust himself alone right now.

"Sherlock, you look like you haven't slept for awhile. I think some time alone would help you out right now. Anyways, it's been slow; we don't need your help." Gregson placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Did you not hear me before?" Sherlock raised his voice. "I _can't_ be ALONE!"

"Sherlock…" Gregson steered the consultant towards his office. Once they were inside, he shut the door and turned to Sherlock. "I think you need to go home and think."

Sherlock glared at Gregson and balled his fists. A cop knocked on the door and peeked inside.

"Everything okay in here?" The cop asked, looking at Sherlock suspiciously.

"Yeah…" Gregson began to speak before Sherlock butt in.

"No. No it's not. I feel like I'm going to explode! Or _hurt_ someone…" Sherlock grimaced at the cop and glared daggers. The cop's mouth opened to speak but Sherlock stopped him. "Now…Let us be." He advanced towards the cop and the cop readied himself for a fight.

"Captain…This man is insane…" The cop glanced away from Sherlock to look at Gregson and was caught off guard when a fist connected with his face.

"I said…GET OUT!" Sherlock punched the man again and the cop fell backwards out the door and onto the floor.

Gregson jumped up from his desk and grabbed Sherlock's arm that was poised to strike again. "SHERLOCK!" Gregson grabbed Sherlock's other arm and held them both firmly behind the consultants back.

The cop got up off the floor with help from other NYPD officers that were staring at Sherlock like he was an animal.

"What the _hell_ are you looking at?!" Sherlock screamed at the bystanders. He continued to fight with Gregson to get his arms free from the Captain's hold. "LET ME GO!" He pulled his arm free and tried punching Gregson.

Gregson caught his fist and twisted the consultants arm behind his back. "Move." Gregson pushed the reluctant Sherlock through the awe-stuck cops to the elevator. Gregson pushed the button with his elbow and when the doors opened, he pushed the consulting detective through them. "Go home, Sherlock."

Sherlock fixed his coat while he glared at the Captain. He continued his glare until the doors closed between them. When the doors were shut, Sherlock ran his hand through his messy hair and leaned up against the elevator wall. He closed his eyes and felt himself calm down enough that he could leave the building and not cause more chaos.

He hailed a cab and headed home to the brownstone.

After the short cab ride back to his home, he threw the money at the cabbie and ran up the steps to his home. He went inside and headed for the kitchen. He took a seat in the chair and pulled his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and clicked on one in particular…

His drug-dealer, Rhys.

…

Rhys wasn't expecting the call. When he answered his phone and heard Sherlock on the other line, he was completely shocked.

"Holmes?" Rhys asked in shock.

"Rhys…I'm in a bind." Sherlock used their old code name to alert him to the fact that Sherlock needed his '_meds'_.

"And here I thought you quit…" Rhys leaned back in his chair and played with the bag of heroin in his hand.

"I thought I did too but…" Sherlock trailed off as he heard Rhys sigh. "What?"

"I'm not giving you drugs, Sherlock." Rhys sighed.

"What? Why? If you're worried about the money, I can assure you I have enough-"

"I'm not giving you drugs because you've come too far to fail now, Sherlock. I'm not letting you become the empty shell of yourself again…" Rhys interrupted Sherlock. He didn't want to see his friend fall back into his old ways.

"You're a _drug dealer_, Rhys. I need drugs. I'll expect them in an hour-" Sherlock ignored Rhys' concern and continued to push for drugs.

"_Ex-dealer_, remember?" Rhys looked down at the bag of heroin and stifled a laugh. _I'm such a hypocrite_, he thought.

"Fine. I'll just get them somewhere else." Sherlock growled. Before Rhys could reply, Sherlock hung up the phone and tossed it on the table.

Rhys looked down at his phone and saw that Sherlock had ended the call. He tossed the bag of heroin on the table and decided that he should go over to Sherlock's and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. Rhys got up and left his shady apartment; he couldn't let his friend make this giant mistake.

…

Sherlock walked along the dark streets and searched for a dealer going by the name of 'Mr. Beanie'. He had talked to some of his former prostitutes and their pimps had recommended many drug-dealers for him but he picked the one with the most amusing name. He was supposed to meet this alleged _professional_ drug-dealer five minutes ago and Sherlock was getting anxious.

He needed drugs. Now.

"You Holmes?" A man's voice asked from the shadows.

Sherlock turned to face the voice. "I am. You Mr. Beanie?" Sherlock had to stop himself before he burst out laughing at the name.

"I am."

"You're late. You're lucky I don't ask for a discount." Sherlock snapped.

"And you're lucky I don't cancel this deal." The man countered.

"Touché." Sherlock reached into his pocket and brought out the envelope filled with money. He passed it to the hooded man and the man handed a bag to Sherlock. Sherlock opened the bag and looked inside. _Drugs_.

"Pleasure doing business with ya man." The hooded man disappeared into the shadows from whence he came as Sherlock stood gazing at his drugs.

Sherlock grunted in reply and headed back to the brownstone.

…

Rhys was in the back of the cab and was shaking his leg impatiently.

"Can you go any faster?" Rhys asked the driver who was most-definitely going _under_ the speed limit.

"Calm down, buddy. What's the rush anyways?" The cabbie asked curiously.

Rhys ignored the question and instead dialed Sherlock's number. When his friend didn't answer his phone, he began to worry.

"Step on it. Please." Rhys pleaded from the backseat.

The cabbie must've heard the desperation in his voice because the rest of the cab ride was spent driving _over _the speed limit.

…

Sherlock sat and stared at the wall. He had given himself many hits…too many to count. His senses sharpened and when he dropped a paperclip on the ground, the sound actually hurt his ears. He stared at the wall and began to feel confused.

_The wall is changing color…_

Sherlock shook his head and tried to shake the weird feeling. When he looked at the wall again, it was convulsing and spinning. This wasn't right…Sherlock suddenly realized that he hadn't been keeping track of how much he was injecting into his arm and how much he was snorting. He felt woozy. He tried to stand and grab his phone when it rang but he fell to the floor with a thud.

_Stay awake…Stay awake…_

Sherlock's eyes felt heavy so he would close them but when he realized what he was doing, he opened them again. He tried maneuvering his legs to make them push him to the table so he could call for help.

_Get to the phone…Get to the phone…_

He tried to crawl to the table where his phone lay but he couldn't move his arms or legs. He tried to outstretch his hand but he was too weak to even lift his arm. He tried to scream out but it came out as gurgle.

_Joan…_

He knew he had to stay awake…for _her_. He couldn't think of what she would do if he died. He couldn't think of what the after-life would be without her. He pushed himself and tried again to crawl to the table.

_What am I doing? I shouldn't try to save myself. I'm nothing. She'd be better off without me._

He rested his head on the ground and gave in to the heaviness on his eyelids. He shut his eyes and waited for the end. Before he felt himself slip into an unconscious state, he assured himself of one last thing.

_I'm nothing._

…

Rhys paid the driver and ran up the stairs to Sherlock's brownstone.

"Sherlock!" Rhys called as he banged his fist on his friend's door. "Sherlock!"

Rhys grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened…

Rhys stepped in and opened the other door before stepping into the home.

"Sherlock?" Rhys called up the stairs. "Sherlock, where are-" He stopped when he noticed Sherlock, face-down on the floor. "Sherlock!" Rhys ran to his friend on the floor and looked around. He saw the empty bags of drugs and the needles Sherlock had used to shoot himself up. Rhys pulled his phone from his pocket and called an ambulance.

"Why, Sherlock? Why?" Rhys turned his friend over and felt himself start to cry.

…

Joan had just sat down for dinner and was talking to Serena when the doorbell rang.

"You expecting anyone?" Joan asked Serena. Serena shook her head no.

Joan got up and made her way to the door as Serena followed close behind. Joan opened the door and when she saw Rhys standing there, she slammed the door shut.

"Serena, can you please go back to the kitchen for a moment?" Serena nodded and left Joan alone.

Joan opened the door and stepped out onto the doorstep. "No no no no…You cannot be here. You're a _drug-dealer_! I'm working with _recovering_ drug-addicts!"

"Watson, I need to speak to you." Rhys tried to make her listen but she cut him off before he could say more.

"Can't it wait? You could've at least called!" Joan pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "Please leave."

"Joan."

Joan opened her eyes at the sound of her name. He never called her by her first name…

"Something's happened." Rhys began to tear up at the thought.

"Whatever it is, I think it can wait for a time when I'm _not_ with a recovering drug-addict." Joan started to open the door to Serena's home and leave him outside when he dropped a bomb on her.

"It's Sherlock." Rhys sighed. Joan turned and looked into Rhys' worried expression. "He's in the hospital."

**_PLEASE REVIEW AND FAVORITE! THERE ARE ONLY 2 CHAPTERS LEFT!_**


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock opened his eyes and scanned the chairs on the left side of the room. Sitting in one of the chairs and staring back at him was Rhys. Sherlock shut his eyes and groaned at the pain in his head.

"Nice of you to_ finally_ wake up, Sherlock." Rhys joked. He gave Sherlock an empathetic smile as he made his way to the bed-side.

Sherlock groaned. "My head bloody _hurts_." Sherlock lifted his arm and winced. His arm hurt too.

"That's what happens when you overdose on cocaine and heroin." Rhys scolded. Rhys looked down at his friend and felt relief. Sherlock was awake and there was no damage to his body or brain. "I'm glad you're okay." Rhys smiled and sat on the end of hospital bed.

"_I'm_ not." Sherlock closed his eyes and laid his head back onto the pillow.

Rhys nudged him softly. "Shut up. Don't you dare talk that way about yourself."

"Why not? I'm clearly not worth anything. I'm nothing more than a drug-addict with commitment issues." Sherlock groaned. His head was throbbing and his arms and legs were aching.

"Stop it. Everybody's worth something. You, my friend, are special." Rhys continued to stare at Sherlock even though the consultant's eyes were closed.

Sherlock opened one eye and raised his brow. "How so?"

"You have someone who cares about you and loves you…and I'm not talking about me or Alistair…"

"I mean, I'm great friends with Captain Gregson but I don't think he loves me…" Sherlock joked. Rhys gave him another playful shove.

"You know who I'm talking about." Rhys smirked.

"Oh yeah? If she really _loved_ me, she'd be here. But is she? No." Sherlock muttered. His pout made him seem like he was a child and the way he crossed his arms just made him look more immature.

"I'd look again…" Rhys jerked his head to the right and Sherlock looked over. On the couch, passed out, was Joan.

Sherlock had never felt so happy to see someone. Joan was curled up into a ball with a blanket covering half her body. He examined her face and saw dark circles around her eyes indicating that she hadn't been sleeping. He was about to let the smile show on his face but shame washed over him.

"God damn it..." He muttered.

"What?" Rhys thought Sherlock would've been ecstatic to see her.

"She's going to _kill_ me for relapsing…" He laughed. Could she really be _that_ mad? He hoped not.

Rhys laughed in reply and looked back to Sherlock. "She really cares for you. She's been here waiting for you to wake up for about two days now." Rhys was looking at Sherlock who was looking at Joan. You could really see the love in the way he looked at her.

"Might as well let her sleep." Sherlock was trying to delay the slap across the face he deserved from her for relapsing.

"Nuh-uh. I promised her I would wake her up as soon as you woke up." Rhys got up and made his way over to the couch.

"Have mercy…" Sherlock muttered. He knew she would be mad…or thought she would be.

Rhys lightly shook Joan's shoulder and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Huh?" Joan asked sleepily.

"He's awake." Rhys laughed at how quick she jumped up and ran to his side. Rhys smiled to himself and left them alone together.

"Sherlock?" She asked anxiously.

Sherlock opened his eyes and gave a sheepish smile. "Joan."

She threw her arms around him to hug him and squeezed. "Don't you dare do that to me again! Do you know how worried I've been?!"

Sherlock ignored the ache in his arms and hugged her back. "I'm sorry."

She nuzzled her face into his neck and breathed in his scent. "God, Sherlock. Why'd you have to do that to me?"

"I'm sorry." He repeated. He hugged her and felt safe for the first time in a long time. "Never leave me again."

She pulled away and looked into his eyes lovingly. "Sherlock, I have to leave for work."

His mouth went into a pout and she giggled. "You can still see me Sherlock. Trust me." She winked.

"Well don't leave me yet. Stay." He intertwined his fingers with hers and pleaded with his eyes. He eyed the golden chain around her neck and pulled it lightly so the charm would show. He admired the pendant and grinned. She was _actually_ wearing it.

She smiled and slipped into the hospital bed beside him. She snuggled up to him and he placed his arm around her protectively. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes.

Joan had never felt so safe before. She closed her eyes and before she fell asleep, he spoke.

"So you're not mad at me?" He asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm mad at you. You're just lucky I love you so much."

Sherlock smiled and they both drifted off to sleep; the throbbing pain in his head, gone.

…

Sherlock woke up the next morning alone in the bed. He sighed.

_At least I'm being released today…_

After some last minute tests from the doctor making sure that Sherlock was okay enough to go home, Sherlock finally got released from the hospital.

He was walking through the lobby when he suddenly spotted Gregson.

"Captain Gregson?" He asked when he made his way over to where the Captain was sitting.

"Sherlock, come with me." Gregson stood up and began walking to the exit.

Sherlock ran to catch up and began explaining. "If this is about what happened at the precinct, I'm sorry-"

Gregson cut him off. "It's not."

Sherlock continued to follow Gregson to an awaiting police car. "You're arresting me…?"

"No." Gregson opened the passenger side door and motioned for the consultant to get in.

Sherlock jumped in and when Gregson got in the driver's seat, the consultant tried to apologize for the drug incident. "I know I shouldn't have gone back to drugs…I just-"

The Captain cut him off again. "It's not about that either, Sherlock."

"Then what_ is_ it about?" Sherlock shifted nervously in the seat. What else could he have done wrong?

"Nothing. I thought I would be nice and drive you to work." Gregson smirked.

Sherlock smiled nervously. _What the hell is going on?_

After a very quiet and awkward car ride, they pulled up to the NYPD building and Gregson cut the engine.

"Ready to go to work?" Gregson didn't wait for Sherlock's answer and exited the vehicle.

"Right now?" Sherlock looked at his watch as he got out of the car and noted the time. 6pm. They never had needed him this late in the afternoon.

"Yes, right now. We've been struggling with a case and could really use your expertise." Gregson continued to walk much faster than Sherlock and the consultant had to practically jog to keep up with the Captains pace.

"Um…Alright." Sherlock followed the Captain up to the 5th floor and they walked to Detective Bell's desk.

Gregson turned and faced him. Bell stood behind him and crossed his arms with a smile on his lips.

"So…What's the case?" Sherlock clasped his hands together and rocked back onto his heels nervously. Something was going on…

"First, we have to introduce you to your new partner." Gregson smirked.

"Partner…?" Sherlock was confused. He didn't need help.

"Yes, partner." A woman spoke behind him.

Sherlock turned towards the woman and his jaw dropped. She walked towards him and outstretched her hand with a smirk.

"Hello, Sherlock. My name is Joan Watson, your new partner."

**_THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE POST A REVIEW AND FAVORITE! ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT! D: _**


	18. Chapter 18

"Watson?" Sherlock was stunned. He stood staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

Joan reached up and placed her hand under his chin. "Close your mouth…" She gently pushed upwards so his mouth would close, "you'll catch flies." She winked and stepped around him so she could sit on the desk and swing her legs over the side. "Surprised?"

"Very…" Sherlock shook his head trying to shake the shock of seeing her. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I am." She winked again.

"What…?" Sherlock looked to Gregson for an explanation.

"Joan, explain it to him. I think he's speechless…for _once_…" Captain Gregson laughed as he observed Sherlock in a dumb state.

Sherlock looked back to Joan anticipating an answer.

"I work here now…well kind of. I'm a consulting detective, like you." She smiled and jumped off the desk to stand in front of him.

"I've been teaching her the basics of becoming a detective." Gregson continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"You accepted lessons from _Gregson_?" Sherlock asked, surprised. He looked up to Captain Gregson and gave a sheepish smile. "No offense…"

"It was her idea." Gregson ignored the insult and gestured towards Joan.

Sherlock raised his eye-brows at Joan questioningly. "_Really_?"

Joan looked at the ground in embarrassment. "Yeah. Sorry…"

"Why are you sorry? I don't mind…In fact, I'm flattered that you want to pursue this career further." He smiled as she lifted her head and their eyes met.

"Oh thank God." Joan sighed in relief. "I was afraid you were going to be mad that I chose Captain Gregson to learn from over you."

"I told you, I'm not mad. One question though…Why _not_ learn from me?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side. He was the best; who_ wouldn't _want to learn detective skills from him?

"I didn't want to be your 'apprentice'." She looked down at his feet, nervous that he would be insulted.

"What _do_ you want to be to me then?" Sherlock lifted her chin so that they were looking into each other's eyes. He smiled as he noticed her cheeks get flushed and felt her pulse start to race.

She didn't answer. She didn't need to. He was smart enough; he knew her answer before she even did.

Sherlock stepped forward to close the gap between them and in an instant, his lips found hers. He kissed her softly at first, only for a second, but it felt like someone had lit fireworks in his stomach so he slowly he became more brave and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Joan leaned in more and forgot about the world around them. She was with him and that's all she ever wanted.

Detective Bell cleared his throat.

Sherlock broke the kiss and Joan looked down at the ground and blushed, clearly embarrassed that they had had such a personal moment in front of people they knew.

"Sorry about that. I needed to break it up before you two jumped each other like horny animals." Detective Bell was smirking.

"S-sorry…" Joan stuttered in embarrassment. She was still looking at the floor and internally smiling with a hint of red in her cheeks.

Sherlock took her hand and squeezed. It seemed to reassure her because she gained enough confidence to look up into Gregson's face.

Gregson had a smirk plastered on his face as he looked down at their linked hands. He rolled his eyes and sighed, "_Finally_."

Sherlock looked into Joan's eyes and they simultaneously smiled at each other.

"So _partner_, should we begin working the case?" Sherlock winked.

Joan squeezed his hand in reply and they followed Gregson to his office to begin their first case together as a **team**.

…

Joan rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder as they sat watching T.V. and she thought about their first day as partners. They had resumed the illegal hospital case and it turned out that Joan had helped out tremendously by identifying the unknown chemicals. The man responsible for the illegal hospital had been apprehended shortly after Sherlock had deduced that he may be masking his business online as a seemingly-innocent social site. They had tracked the IP address and found him in an abandoned building by late afternoon. Joan had to admit, working with Sherlock was intriguing and the new trust between them lightened their tense relationship. She could now trust him with her secrets and he had let his guard down enough to share more about his past in London.

"Tired?" Sherlock looked down at the woman resting her head on his shoulder therefore breaking Joan's train of thought.

She looked up at him and sighed. "Exhausted."

He shut the T.V. off and got up off the couch. Joan looked up at him, confused.

"What are you…?" She was cut off by him scooping her up off the couch.

"If you're tired, let's go to bed then." Sherlock winked. Sherlock was surprised by how easy it was to carry her. She was so tiny. He headed for the stairs with Joan in his arms and made his way up to her room. He entered her room and kicked the door shut with his leg. He slowly lowered her down on the bed and stripped himself of his shirt.

Joan scooted back onto the bed and admired his smooth chest. She looked up and found him staring at her. Joan blushed and tried to hide it by looking down.

Sherlock stood and noticed her blush. He wondered if he had gone too far too fast.

Joan looked up at him and found him with a serious look on his face. He was definitely thinking everything through and having second thoughts.

Joan grew impatient and jumped up to clasp her arms around his neck. She met his lips and he relaxed, lowering himself down on top of her onto the bed.

Sherlock broke the kiss and looked into her eyes with a smile. "I'm in love with you Watson."

…

Joan opened her eyes and found Sherlock staring back at her. His grey eyes sparkled like the stars in the New York night sky. His body readjusted to the soft mattress they were laying on as he motioned his hand toward hers, his fingers lightly brushing her hand before taking it in his gentle grip. She tilted her head upward, and their noses grazed, she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. Joan closed her eyes, and simultaneously, their lips touched. She nuzzled up to him and placed her head on his chest. He placed an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

After they had been in that position for awhile, he broke the silence with a question.

"It _was_ a nightmare, wasn't it?"

"What?" She tilted her head so she could look into his eyes.

"That day that you woke up screaming. It was a nightmare, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What was it about?" He asked casually.

"You're smart enough, I'm sure you can guess." She snuggled in closer to absorb his heat. Her room was freezing!

"It was about the day you lost someone on the operating table, wasn't it?"

She broke the gaze and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She nodded.

He stroked her hair to calm her down and lifted her head towards him to wipe away the tear with his thumb. "It's not your fault."

"I killed someone, Sherlock! It is my fault." She felt more tears roll down her cheeks.

"Everybody makes mistakes, Watson. Mistakes mean you're human; they don't decide what direction you go in, _you_ decide your future. Everybody has made mistakes that make them feel like their lives were over...Don't let the mistakes hold you back." Sherlock wiped her remaining tears and kissed her lips tenderly. "You can always learn from your mistakes; I mean, look at _me_. I've made a lot of mistakes and I'm a better person because of them."

She smiled and wiped her eyes. "You always know what to say, Sherlock." She cuddled up to him and closed her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too, Wa- Joan…" He corrected himself.

She giggled. "Everyone makes mistakes."

He laughed. "Besides, I'm grateful for mistakes. Your greatest mistake brought you here, to me. If you wouldn't have made _that_ mistake, you never would've been my sober-companion. And if you never would've been my sober-companion, I never would've met you."

_**END**_

_**Thanks to Emily, LucyMiller, Dina C, ConanKudoFan, H22, Elementary Fan, sara, lily, Keep Calm and Be Ninja, Ms. Jynesis, AvengerNerd3, marshmallowdeviant, Sherlock holmes fan1, MGTwins, human, Guest, , mmkbrook, sunshine-minx, Dustyfog416, halaA, liya, TheBonesGirl33, Drawtist, Ange noir, blueberry24, ThePenIsMighty, Marcie Gore, SHADOWPRIESTESS16, bk-1205, hophophop, Hayley, jen4850, and Moongrl088 for reviewing and supporting me through this grand adventure. I am extremely sad that this experience is ending but I will not go on forgotten! I will continue to write stories and share them with you, my wonderful fans. Thank you so much! :D**_

_**~ImagineThis22**_


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